


Dawn Where You Are

by BetweenSkyAndSea



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Fertility Issues, Friendship/Love, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21858778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenSkyAndSea/pseuds/BetweenSkyAndSea
Summary: The war has been over for five years, and democracy is finally beginning to bloom. Dimitri & Byleth are working diligently to ensure their best future for Fódlan. But love is work, too.The arrival of a goldenrod envelope changes everything.Post-Azure Moon route.Dimiclaude / Dimileth / Dimiclaudeleth / Byclaude / Claudeleth / Claudimileth
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 34
Kudos: 170





	1. Wish I Could Be Where You Are

Flayn bubbled into the Archbishop’s apartment with an unexpected letter.

“It's marked express, I wonder who it’s from!”

As an attendant coiffed her long hair and set her Archbishop headdress, Byleth cracked the wax seal from the bright goldenrod envelope. The handwriting was unfamiliar--likely transcribed by an aide. But pride filled her chest as she read the announcement. Fondly, she traced the raised ink of the casual and carefree signature at the end. 

_Claude Von Riegan, King of Almyra._

“Ah! _King_?” Byleth smiled to herself, pride radiating from her chest. "Good for him."

As always, Byleth took breakfast alone on the small balcony connected to her chambers. She nibbled absently at her meal; Pegasus and Wyvern knights practiced drills on the glowing horizon. When would Dimitri’s wyvern appear? Though her heart did not beat, anticipation made it ache.

Her thoughts drifted back to Claude’s coronation announcement, and to her time at the Officers Academy.

Teaching had been a struggle--she was utterly unequipped to teach, and had a hard time relating to those around her own age. As she grew closer to the Blue Lions students, her heart begun to unfurl; she even reached out to those outside her house for friendship. Such innocent pastimes culminated in the Garreg Mach ball, where she had been the lucky recipient of multiple confessions.

Less than a day later her father would be taken from her, and romantic advances would be the last thing on her mind.

A pang of unresolved grief touched on other pools of deep emotion and pulled her back to the present. Her appetite was gone; she pushed her plate away. 

The familiar bray of Dimitri’s wyvern broke her from the spell of reminiscence, so she downed the tea that had grown cold and rushed to receive him. She needed him today more than ever.

* * *

The heavy doors of the reception chamber parted, revealing a welcome silhouette. So different than when she first saw him after their strange years apart. Dimitri had been crumpled in on himself then, trapped in a self-cast spell of despair.

Now he stood tall, strong, confident, _hers_.

The figurehead of Fhirdiad kept his good eye trained on Byleth as he strode toward the throne, ardent as he approached. Stopping just short of her dias, he bowed. His heavy fur cloak swept dramatically around his lithe frame. He rose to her with a sweet smile, the one he saved just for her. It made her chest swell every time. 

“Your Grace,” he greeted according to protocol, mirth playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Your Majesty,” she smirked, stepping forward to offer her hand. 

It was there the formalities dropped. Dimitri swept her into a dip and spoiled her with a passionate kiss, onlookers be damned. 

It had been five years since the storm of war had been quelled in the newly unified Fódlan. Their marriage had taken place immediately afterwards, but distance nor time had dulled the chemistry between them.

The King was particularly hungry for her today, and that pleased her.

Unfortunately, Seteth had ensured their first day together would be of paperwork and meetings. They stole small glances at each other between appointments and let their touch linger as they passed papers back and forth over the large desk.

As Byleth and Dimitri had learned the hard way, five years was merely a blip in the eye of history. As old systems of class and crests were dismantled, they had to come up with something revolutionary, something that would resonate with the people, something that would last... a proper democracy was almost ready to bloom.

To see this democracy propagate, that meant paperwork.

They even took dinner in her office, finishing the last of their work by the light of an oil lamp before they were able to call it a day.

 _Finally_!

A quick retreat to Byleth’s apartments was made; attendants helped them shed their overly intricate royal outfits. They were reunited in Byleth’s bedroom shortly thereafter, clad in casual clothing.

The tension of being king had visibly dissipated from Dimitri’s lithe frame. Byleth was no longer an archbishop, but a woman who wanted to spend an evening with her husband.

Her husband was sweetly shy as he approached Byleth; though fate had pulled them through unkind circumstances, she was certain by this point he would forever be an awkward boy in love with his professor. On tiptoe she pulled his linen shirt over his head, and removed his eyepatch, discarding both to nuzzle her face against his chest and breathe in the scent of him.

Clean, comforting, warm, _alive_. She remained that way wordlessly for a minute. “Oh Mitya... I missed you.”

“We cannot let this many moons pass between us again,” he said in agreement, bending down to savor a kiss from his tiny, strong wife. Her chest was filled with warmth. Joy.

Byleth relished in the fact that this obscenely strong man was so gentle with her. The kiss they shared was tender, searching. But when one of his large hands splayed low across her abdomen, she grew nervous.

“How is…? Ah… I didn’t mean to get ahead of you,” Dimitri’s beautiful, clear blue eye searched her face brightly, awaiting the news. 

Byleth smiled wanly, shaking her head. “I am without child.”

“Then it is apparent your king must do a better job of loving his queen,” Dimitri said without missing a beat, dipping to pick her up with no effort at all. 

As soon as he’d tucked her against his chest, Byleth felt a deep churn of emotion, sorrow overtaking any other. He placed her on the bed with the utmost care, curling protectively around her.

“It isn’t a matter of how much you love me or not,” She tried to remain composed, but her voice cracked when she said, “I think something is wrong with my body.”

“Surely we can try again.” A gentle smile played on his face; he wiped her tears away so gently. He was doing his best but the optimism he held about _this_ particular situation had worn on her patience. _Goddess help me._

“Dimitri, _stop_. You don’t seem to understand what I’m trying to say. Please.”

“...My apologies.”

He kept quiet after that.

Byleth was grateful for a pause to collect her thoughts, but it didn’t stop the sob that hitched in her throat, which led to another, then another. Just as she thought she’d cried it all out, another wave rose. He held her close, and she was thankful.

“I’m tired of feeling this emptiness.” Byleth whispered. “It was... very painful this time. Moreso than the last.”

“I see,” he croaked out a pained response. Try though he might, he really had no idea.

They were both silent for a long time after that, staring into the crackling fire from the comfort of their bed. Gathering her resolve, Byleth curled her fingers into his long hair and tilted back to study his features.

She ached to have a handsome daughter or a beautiful son, a strong, healthy child that looked just like their father. Instead she had been given gut-wrenching pain and disappointment, over and over again.

Eventually Byleth asked, “...You don’t blame me, do you?”

“Blame you? Never. It’s merely bad luck,” he soothed. “I want a family with you, but you’re the most important person in the world.”

It was rare she showed such vulnerability to him, and she thanked her lucky stars he was so understanding, even if at times he was perhaps... too sweet. 

But that was why she loved him so very much.

She’d seen him as a considerate prince, she’d watched him cling to scraps of his own humanity, she’d guided him through grappling with his fears and learning how to make amends; after everything he was devoted and kind and--

“I need to be close to you. Now,” Byleth demanded, tipping back to undo the ties on his pants.

“Is that wise, my Beloved? I don’t want to hurt you,” Dimitri breathed in surprise, a different fear darkening his eye.

“There are plenty of other things we can do, my love,” Byleth assured him. “Plenty.”

They took their time making love. She relished in the closeness of him, tracing every muscle and scar. Byleth savored every moan and look and sweet word he uttered until her chest felt full. At some point they nested under a thick layer of fluffy blankets, wrapped up in one another.

Byleth woke from their evening nap before Dimitri. She disentangled herself from her husband’s long limbs with care and trotted across the cold floor to the bathroom.

She perched on the edge of the overly-large soaking tub and prepared a bath, humming a tune while she decided on which aromatics to steep in the water. As the steam rose, the gentle scent of chamomile and lavender bloomed. With luck those herbs would relax them both but worry still clouded her mind.

Something touched the crown of her head and she yelped. 

Dimitri’s gentle laughter bubbled out. She’d been so deep in thought that it hadn’t registered as a kiss at all.

“It wasn’t my intention to scare you,” he murmured, wrapping her in a tight hug and a proper kiss. They utilized a smaller wash basin to soap up and rinse while waiting for the larger tub to fill. 

He dragged a wooden bath stool between them. “Sit. Let me wash your hair.” 

Byleth wasn’t about to protest being pampered by the King. He dragged another stool for himself, then carefully tipped a dribble of warm water over her hairline. “Temperature okay?”

She hummed an affirmative and he let the whole bowl spill over her scalp.

He was such a gentle, considerate person. It made her ache to think of what could have happened if she had allied with the wrong house, or if she hadn’t been able to chip through his self-loathing to stamp out some of the pain that had consumed him.

Where would he be right now?

Would he even be alive? 

It was not healthy to dwell on such thoughts.

“I remember doing this for you,” Byleth hummed as he lathered up her damp locks. His strong fingers delivered a divine massage to her scalp and neck. She rolled her head back in his hands, enjoying the view of her husband’s handsome face. 

“It was the first time you really let me touch you after I came back. Ahh, right there-- ”

“I’ll never forget,” he said quietly, focused on working the knot he’d discovered at the base of her neck.

_Hot water made a dull thud against Dimitri’s broad back as Byleth pelted him with another bucketful, turning his pale skin bright pink. Despite the temperature, he was trembling._

_During a strategically scheduled morning meeting— earlier than usual so Dimitri would be absent— Byleth addressed the situation, carefully laying out her plan. She was unanimously voted the closest to him emotionally, thus the job of coaxing him from his quarters and into the bathhouse had fallen to her. Indeed, she’d expected that result going into the session, but needed assistance to carry out the plan._

_It had been five months since she had returned, and it had taken Rodrigue's tragic death for Dimitri to be receptive to anyone around him._

_Felix had been quick to scoff during the meeting that she was a bloody fool, but had been the first to volunteer to wrestle the boar prince out of his armor. Dedue and Sylvain tied for second._

_When Byleth knocked, her favorite student opened his door in a panic, concerned he’d slept through the appointment. Standing in the doorway to his quarters, alone, she issued the invitation; Dimitri shyly accepted._

_As soon as he stepped into the bathhouse, she provided him with a towel, soap, toothbrush and paste, and the small team of his Blue Lions comrades she'd recruited to peel him from his armor._

_Even from the women’s changing room she was able to hear Felix bickering with Dimitri._

_When they rejoined bathside, Dimitri staunchly refused to look at her. She courteously averted her eyes from his body. Byleth had hoped their first time being naked in front of each other would be romantic instead of shameful, but it was not meant to be._

_He gripped the seat of the wooden bathing stool with white knuckles as she splashed another bucketful of water over his trembling body. Even without the aid of hot water, his chest and back glowed as red as his face and ears. She had to admit it was cute, and she mentally filed the tidbit away._

_Byleth passed him a bar of soap and a damp washcloth with the instruction, “Wash your front.”_

_Her tone brooked no argument. To his credit, Dimitri did not protest and did as instructed. His compliance pleased her._

_“What are they doing with my armor?” Dimitri’s deep voice echoed off the bathhouse walls._

_“Repairing it,” she said; it was only a white lie._

_Apparently his hygiene had been questionable long before she returned. Everything that touched Dimitri needed a thorough cleanse. His underclothes were likely too worn and too filthy to salvage; Ashe and Mercedes were already in town shopping for replacements._

_She lathered a second bar and began to scrub his back with a rougher cloth, paying special attention to his neck and behind his ears. A criss cross of scars rippled over his skin. Of course her own body was no different, but some of Dimitri’s worst looked pink enough to be rather recent. More pointless scars she hadn’t been able to stop him from earning._

_By her perception, Byleth only been gone for the blink of an eye. Yet the five years that passed had been cruel to her beloved student. She’d always sensed a darkness simmering underneath his earnest, kind veneer. But seeing this man before her, cowering and consumed by depression and something deeper, Byleth could only conclude Dimitri was never meant to be a warrior._

_She scrubbed until his skin was a healthy pink and scented like the lavender that was embedded in the soap._

_His unwashed hair was the next point of contention. It was plastered to his scalp, the rest of it hanging limply; she remembered his hair being a pale gold that shimmered in the sun, and this dull, lank mess was not it._

_Gingerly, Byleth plucked at the strap of his eyepatch. Dimitri pressed it firmly to his face._

_“Don’t--”_

_“I’m going to wash your hair,” she explained calmly._

_“It’s fine.”_

_“Dimitri, let me do this for you, please,” she tried again._

_“Don’t touch me!” he snarled._

_Byleth sighed, gently removing her hands. She was not intimidated by his display, just tired of the verbally aggressive front. She placed a hand on his shoulder, fully expecting him to shrug her away. He didn’t._

_“I care about you, Mitya. Please tell me what is wrong.”_

_It took him a long time to answer, and his voice was a rough whisper._

_“...I don’t want you to see me.”_

_Dimitri sounded like a scared little boy and it broke her heart. She leaned in close so he couldn’t miss her bare torso or the smile on her face and said, “Well. We’re already naked.”_

_By his blush, he had forgotten. He averted his gaze to study the wall, covering his privates with his washcloth. “Professor...”_

_Curling her fingers under his chin, she coaxed him to look at her. She didn’t care if he looked at her body, but he was too eaten by anxiety to even steal a glance._

_“I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” she assured. “But you need to take it off so I can wash your hair properly. You can put it right back on. I swear to the Goddess I won’t peek.”_

_Dimitri was silent for another long stretch, but finally answered, “I trust you.”_

_He still gave off a distinct skittishness. When he finally passed the eyepatch back, she hung it on a hook nearby. She made a mental note that Dimitri could use a spare or two, and would send Ashe back into town later._

_“Tip your head back,” she instructed, then poured hot water over his hairline. He was careful all the while to keep his fingertips pressed over his eye socket._

_Dimitri’s hair was so filthy she had to pass the shampoo bar through his damp hair a few times before it lathered up. Byleth took her time in massaging his scalp. He moaned and let his head fall back into her hands, a look of pleasure on his face the likes of which she’d never seen before. It made her blush._

_“I don’t want to get soap in your eye,” she cautioned when she was ready to rinse, tipping more water over his head. Byleth enjoyed being with him like this, even if the reason they were here hadn’t exactly been a positive one._

_Finally, she draped a towel over his head and fluffed his hair dry._

_“All done,” Byleth announced after finger combing his hair back from his face, then patted him fondly on the head. “Can you get my back?”_

_“C-certainly, yes, of course!”_

_They swapped places, and Byleth unceremoniously dumped water over herself. Dimitri’s hands were shaking as he scrubbed her back._

_“I’m scared of hurting you,” he whispered in frustration after the soap had plopped to the ground for the third time._

_“I trust you,” she said in a calm tone, “I’m not gonna snap like a needle and thread.”_

_That made him laugh a little, and relaxed enough to continue his task. “Mercedes told you about that?”_

_“Mmhmm.” Byleth shivered under his hands. She hadn’t been touched in a long time either. He was thorough in his task, and she whined softly despite herself. Who was turning red now?_

_“That was nice, Dimitri. Thank you.”_

_Byleth is sure to stay on his sighted side as they enter the bath. He relaxed enough to sit beside her on the submerged stone ledge with their backs to the wall, thigh to thigh._

_“...Thank you,” he murmured, staring straight ahead._

_“Let’s spend time together like this again,” she encouraged, reaching for his hand._

_“I would like that very much,” he blushed. His good eye was full of an emotion she didn’t have a name for. Admiration? Appreciation?_

_But that hadn’t been what startled her. He’d become so comfortable he’d forgotten himself, and when he’d turned to regard her, she couldn’t help but look at the empty eye socket covered in ugly, knobby scars._

_She had tried to keep her expression neutral as soon as she realized she was looking at the one thing he didn’t want her to see, but her reaction must have been strong. Dimitri was plainly hurt and withdrew._

_Byleth held onto his hand with an iron grip when he tried to retreat._

_“Dimitri, who did that to you?” Her request came out more harshly than intended._

_The defeated prince kept his back to her but stopped mid-step, crumpling a little. “They are long dead.”_

_“...That is for the best.” She did not voice it, but if the culprit was alive, Byleth knew she would not let them die quickly._

_“I have been much crueler than the dastard who did this to me,” he was quick to remind her, crushed._

_She frowned. He was beginning to spiral. She stood and drew close enough to whisper, “Please stay here,” only letting go of his hand when he finally gave her a nod._

_Byleth pulled herself from the bath to retrieve the leather eyepatch._

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I should’ve given this back after I was through,” she said in quiet apology, handing the eyepatch to him meekly. He put it back on in silence; she slid into the hot water near him and hoped he would stay._

_Her chest tightened triumphantly when he settled beside her again. “...Does it still hurt?”_

_Dimitri wore a rueful smile. “Yes. Sometimes.”_

_Again, Byleth took up his hand under the water’s surface. He did not recoil, and a moment later he folded his fingers between hers. Dimitri said nothing for a long time, but when he spoke again, his voice wavered with emotion._

_“You don’t find me... difficult to look upon?”_

_She looked up to find him staring, red-cheeked and anxious. Her validation was so important to him that his eye quivered._

_“Oh Mitya… no. I don’t. You will always be my handsome prince.” Byleth answered sincerely._

_The wound was unfortunate, but made him no less beautiful._

_Upon realizing what she’d said, it was her turn to be blushy and embarrassed. “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so forward—”_

_Byleth’s eyes flew wide when Dimitri pressed his mouth upon her. His eye was closed in a tender expression, but his teeth clinked awkwardly against hers in an earnest, inexperienced kiss— their first. His...?_

_They were panting when they parted._

_“I’m afraid I don’t have much experience,” the crown prince whispered nervously, their foreheads touching. His gaze was intense, and that admiration had returned. Love. The look she hadn’t recognized before was love._

_“Dimitri…” Byleth tried to center herself with deep breaths. He did everything in his life with the same intensity, didn’t he?_

_Her fingers tangled in his hair as she coaxed him close again. Byleth led this time, humming as he intuitively followed her approach. She was sure to lavish extra attention on him, languidly increasing depth of their bond, and was well-rewarded with his soft moans and a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. He tested the tip of his tongue against hers and she made a delightful noise of her own, emboldening him._

_When they broke a second time, Byleth was panting harder than before. He presented Byleth with a smile she hadn’t seen since their Academy days, princely and sincere. It seemed the man she knew was returning to her, however slowly._

_“That was... very nice. You’re a quick study,” she praised, thumbing his lower lip._

_“Professor… ah, Byleth… ”_

The Archbishop had been concerned it might be one of those days where it would be difficult to get him talking, but as he recalled the details and feelings of that day so long ago, her worries evaporated. Dimitri made thorough work of his task. Byleth gladly reciprocated before they sunk into the oversized bath.

The water rose to Dimitri’s chest, then crested over the edge when Byleth joined him, sitting face to face, their legs entwined in the middle. Water tinkled into the drain with a relaxing melody.

“I’m glad we get moments like this,” she said.

“In time, we will have them every day,” Dimitri promised, gently grasping one of her legs. His fingers worked from her knee to her calf, testing and addressing any tender points, before he began to massage her left foot. “Parliament will be fully established within the next year, and we can implement the plan to step back from our roles.”

Her mouth twisted into a frown. Her promise to Lady Rhea would keep her at the monastery indefinitely. “Ah, but you forget. There is no stepping back for me. I do look forward to waking up beside you for the rest of our lives.”

“I can only hope you won’t tire of me,” he murmured, wearing a blush.

Byleth’s first instinct was to tell him he was a fool for spouting such nonsense, but Dimitri was a sensitive soul. So instead she looked him squarely in the eye. “I could never.”

It took a moment for her statement to sink in, but he rewarded Byleth with a confident grin. “You make me the happiest man in all of Fódlan.”

They soaked long enough in the blissfully hot water for Byleth to feel like she was turning to jelly. Dimitri’s attentive massage of her feet and lower legs didn’t hurt, either. Perhaps now was the time to bring up the unexpected news.

“I received a letter from Claude Von Riegan yesterday.”

Dimitri was so shocked he dropped her foot back into the tub with a plop. “Claude is alive?”

“Alive and well. His court sent a coronation announcement, signed by the man himself.” She hummed as Dimitri took up his work anew, massaging out a knot deep in her right calf.

“King? Of... Almyra?”

“Mmmhmm.” She languidly swirled her arms through the hot bathwater. 

“That scheming scoundrel. Good for him,” he mused, pride in his voice for their friend and ally.

Byleth laughed. “I thought the very same.”

“I remember he was very curious about you. I mean, the entire monastery was,” Dimitri said bashfully, slouching.

Oh, he was still so jealous. She turned the tap on the side of the tub to refresh the hot water, then pulled herself to her husband so they were belly to belly in the bath. Her chin on his chest, she peered up at him.

“It feels like a lifetime ago.” With one hand she gathered up Dimitri’s long hair, twisting the damp strands into a loose ponytail over his shoulder. It was cute. “I remember when the confessions started… I didn’t expect to be indoctrinated in the art of love letters when I started teaching.” 

“Do you recall the confession I made?”

Byleth hummed an affirmative. “At the Goddess Tower. It was awkward and sweet and perfectly Dimitri.”

He groaned and turned his face away, refusing to look her in the eye. “How I wish I hadn’t insisted it was a joke.” His ears gave away his blush. Such moments made Byleth love him even more. 

“Fortunately, it seems like the Goddess ignored that little detail,” Byleth crawled further up his body, smiling against the shell of his ear. Her mouth worked her way down his neck, pausing to suck at his throat. “I still have all of the letters you wrote, too. You tried to tiptoe around your feelings on paper, but you were incredibly bad at concealing anything in person.”

“ _Fantastic_.” 

Byleth laughed. With that Dimitri ducked the other way, which only made her laugh more.

“Sorry.” She wasn’t really sorry. “You were always cute.”

Dimitri retreated from the bath like a scolded puppy and she followed, throwing a spare towel at the back of his head with a laugh. They dried each other off and piled in a warm, naked heap on the bed linens they’d rumpled earlier.

The simple act of pressing skin to skin was nourishing. They shared soft kisses and featherlight touches. Before they became too relaxed and fell asleep again, she plucked Claude’s letter from the bedside table for Dimitri to appraise.

As he did so, Byleth rolled onto her side, tracing the peaks and valleys of scar and muscle that crisscrossed Dimitri’s torso. She waited until he was done to give her own assessment. “To be honest, he has proven reliable, but even after all these years I’m still not sure I trust him entirely. I mean, who--”

Byleth snapped her mouth shut. _Who disappears for five years and returns without a word_ , she had almost added, but for Dimitri, that scab would never heal.

The king’s brow furrowed as he thought on a response to the letter.

“We should extend an invitation to celebrate his coronation, now he has revealed himself again,” Dimitri suggested. 

“I agree. His assistance was vital in reuniting Fódlan, and as the Almyran King he could continue to be a powerful ally for us,” Byleth added. 

“Opening trade is also something that would be beneficial to us both,” Dimitri agreed with a hum. “Let us arrange something for the end of the next moon.”

* * *

In a fit of sleeplessness during the pale morning hours, Byleth penned Claude an invitation to the sound of Dimitri’s shallow snoring, and sent it off with the first carrier pigeon at sunrise.

As the moon rose that evening, a response had already been received.

This letter was in Claude’s unmistakable looping scrawl all the way through, casual and comfortable, succinct. 

_Teach!_

_I accept. One request: let’s have a big Almyran-style feast. I’ll send wine._

_Looking forward to catching up,_

_Claude_

...And so a formal reception was planned to welcome Claude Von Riegan back to Garreg Mach and Fódlan as the King he had become. 

As Byleth’s lady-in-waiting, Flayn excitedly offered to take over the preparations, issuing invitations and coordinating anything else that was needed.

“It will be like the Garreg Mach ball, but with even more excitement! A historic meeting of three minds, long lost friends; two great Kings and yourself, Your Grace! Oh, it’s like we are living through a fable,” Flayn gushed, as if the last decade of their lives hadn’t been important history. 

As if Flayn’s _own_ life hadn’t been an epic all on its own.

Days before the ball, Byleth walked the length of the hall with Flayn to ensure each and every detail was to her liking. It was a state-sponsored affair and needed to look the part, even if the heads of state didn’t care for such frivolous displays.

Byleth had lived a merc’s spartan life and cared nothing for this type of spectacle. Dimitri had grown up with a high level of pomp and circumstance, but had been practical in the time she knew him. From the little she knew about Claude’s childhood, it would likely be more fuss than Claude cared for, too. Though... she remembered how eager he was to celebrate after the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, even though the Golden Deer had been firmly in third place.

Byleth scanned the checklist as they walked from the dining hall to the great hall, raising an eyebrow at some of the choices Flayn made. She was squeezing every last coin out of the modest budget they’d set, but the priorities were a little skewed. She was about to suggest they spend less on flowers until she looked at the careful notes.

“Ah, lily arrangements. Rhea would have liked that,” she remarked. 

Flayn smiled wistfully. “I thought so too. They will be in every arrangement. Perhaps it will feel like she is celebrating such a joyous occasion with us.”

It was a thoughtful sentiment.

“I can see you’ve worked very hard, I’m sure everything will come together beautifully.” Byleth praised thoughtfully at the end of their meeting. “Just one request--pare the number of fish dishes down to three.”

* * *

A moon had passed between them so quickly.

Byleth pulled her heavy robes closed against the strong midnight breeze. Dimitri arrived by wyvern at an obscenely late hour the night before the celebration. Its bronze scales glittered in the torchlight as it touched down on the star terrace. Her King slipped from its back with practiced ease, and ensured to spare a moment to thank the stablehand for waiting up. He was a kind leader.

A bittersweet emotion rose in Byleth’s chest as he strode forward. They had been apart for just over a moon but by his haggard look, it seemed he had distracted himself with work the entire time. She noticed immediately he was slovenly--hair unwashed, clothes unkempt. Not to the degree he’d been during the war, but still concerning.

“My beloved,” he breathed hotly in her ear, lifting and crushing her in a hug so tight she couldn’t eke out a single word. She didn’t mind one bit. She exhaled an _I love you_ and nipped at his neck. 

At such a late hour there were no meetings, no prior engagements. She’d even dismissed her attendants hours ago, bidding them to get a good night’s rest before the long day of celebration ahead. She and Dimitri had a rare evening _and_ morning of total privacy and she intended to take full advantage of it.

She helped to remove his heavy cloak and his intricately embroidered king's garb, stripping him down to his undergarments. She swallowed her instinct to wince.

“...Oh Mitya. You haven’t been eating enough, have you.”

It wasn’t a question--the evidence was underneath her palms. They’d only been apart a few weeks and he’d lost so much body mass. His skin was too taut across his belly, his ribs too prominent for her comfort. She hugged him tight, fingers gliding down his shoulder blades to rest at the small of his back. 

He was a big soft puppy in her embrace, but he hesitated to answer. “No. No time,” finally came his response. 

Of course, she did not believe him.

Sometimes when they reunited he needed time to thaw. Other times he was needy and openly affectionate. And other times--like his prior visit--he was a dashing, confident king who swept her off her feet.

Byleth never knew which version she was going to get. It was just one of those Dimitri things. He had always been prone to bouts of melancholy and she knew how single minded he was in pursuit of his goals. 

On tiptoes she kissed his chin. “Then we will eat well and train hard this week, starting right now. Well, the eating part anyway,” she softened the demand with a smile. “Okay?”

“...Okay.”

Dimitri shivered as she moved away and grabbed a robe before following her into the main apartment. The fireplace crackled warmly. A charcuterie board was waiting on the lounge table, piled high with his favorite tidbits.

“This is… so thoughtful. Thank you.”

“I never stop thinking about you, Dimitri.” She encouraged him to sit and then curled up beside him, plucking a grape from the board to lift to his lips. “Let’s eat and enjoy ourselves.”

As she fed and watered her husband, she hung back from initiating conversation and watched him graze while she sipped on wine. Judging by how quickly the food disappeared, he was far hungrier than he’d admitted. Par for the course. 

Once he’d finished enough food to make an adequate meal, she pressed a glass of wine in his hands, wondering how she could get him to open up about the real issue that plagued him.

“Drink with me? I’m a bit nervous about tomorrow,” she coaxed in a moment of vulnerability.

“...You as well?” He seemed surprised at Byleth’s openness. He swirled the pale liquid thoughtfully before taking a sip.

“Of course. The Claude I knew is likely gone,” she said in a bittersweet tone. “Time has changed all of us.”

“Yet you seemed so close with him during our time at the Academy,” Dimitri quickly rebutted, an odd lilt to his tone. He downed more wine in one mouthful than was proper.

...That jealousy had returned. It was a bitter, ancient thing that sunk its teeth into his consciousness. It was not wholly unlike his other traumas and regrets, but thankfully it seemed to be a minor demon that had come to taunt him. But even a minor demon would help itself to his delicate confidence, plucking it away feather by feather.

At first, Byleth wasn’t sure how to respond to such a pointed comment, especially not from her beloved husband. 

“Yet—” she mirrored his words and tone to drive her point, “my prior friendship with him has led to our reunion tomorrow, and the chance of an alliance,” she deflected. 

“Friendship? You were more than friends.” Dimitri accused plainly, wearing an ugly sneer. 

Byleth was baffled; defending herself only drew more vitriol from Dimitri. It had been more than five years since she’d seen anything resembling this callous attitude and she did not like it. So she attempted to defend Claude instead. 

“You were also friends with Claude,” She emphasized friendship for the umpteenth time. “I remember you sharing meals with him, jokes and training sessions,” Byleth said. ”We decided aiding him at Derdriu was the right thing to do--not only as a wise strategic move, but because we cared for him. Do you regret that?”

“I do not…”

“I remember how happy you were even for those few moments after the battle.”

Dimitri was absolutely tangled in a net of his own making. He stammered out an apology, blushing and unable to meet her gaze or to deny any of her statements.

This behavior was new to Byleth. He usually turned his guilt inwards--but by the state of him, he’d let himself rot from the inside all month, and now it had to flow elsewhere. Byleth tipped back the last sip of her wine and looked him in the eye.

“I love _you_ , Dimitri, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. No matter what happened in the past between any of us,” she said finally, shutting down that branch of conversation. “I will always be yours.” 

“And I, yours,” a sheepish Dimitri responded, seeking her out for a kiss of apology. 

She savored the kiss, but before he could take it any further she placed a hand on his chest.

“Now. Let’s get you a bath and try to sleep. You are not getting in bed like that.”

* * *

Byleth snapped awake at Goddess knew what hour, a hot wave of panic rising in her stomach. The bed had creaked with a sudden burst of movement. Dimitri let out a sharp, grieving sob.

“Mitya, are you--”

“You fell again,” he grasped at her like a child looking for a beloved stuffed toy lost between the sheets. He was frantically looking _through_ her and that scared her. “You disappeared and I couldn’t--” he sucked in a breath, the sound hitching, “I couldn’t--”

The acid panic in Byleth’s stomach was joined by tight knots. She had to stay calm for him. “You’re ok, Dimitri. We’re safe. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

She waited for the adrenaline from his nightmare to subside. It took time for the great heaving sobs to leave. Finally, his breathing steadied.

“Shhh, I’m right here, my love. Is it okay if I touch you?”

Dimitri eventually nodded and murmured a quiet ‘I love you’. She smoothed the hair from his brow, then coaxed him onto his back and crawled on his broad torso, pressing most of her body weight against his chest. His hands were still trembling as he cradled her, but they were back to sleep soon enough.

They stirred only when the sun peeking through the heavy drapes grew too bright. They had moved apart during the night. Byleth awoke to her husband stroking her hair, gazing down at her fondly.

“Good morning, my beloved.”

She smiled back at him and thanked her lucky stars. He was in a fine mood this morning. 

“How did you sleep?” She asked. He dipped to nuzzle her and she kissed the knotted scar where his right eye used to be. He hummed. 

“If I am honest… I feel like I didn’t sleep at all.” He sat back and rubbed underneath his eyes.

“Mmm. You had a rough night, my love.”

Dimitri gave her a curious look.

“You don’t remember?”

“I’m afraid I do not,” Dimitri frowned. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, and his fingertips splayed across his forehead as he tried his best to recollect the dream.

“No matter,” she said quietly, tracing circles on his chest. She was positive it had been the Garreg Mach nightmare. He’d had it often enough that she knew the tells. “But… we have a big day ahead of us. We can talk about it later if you would like. Let us prepare for our guest.”

“I’m still nervous,” Dimitri admitted. 

Byleth smiled at him. “Me too, but we’ll meet him together.” 

They took their time getting ready, with Byleth reassuring her handsome husband every time he expressed doubt. Usually they enlisted the help of aides to quickly dress in such intricate outfits, but today they would take care in dressing one another. They both needed the pampering.

After she applied the barest amount of makeup, emphasizing her eyes and lips, Dimitri helped her into her rigid bustier, and the heavy, black damask gown she was so fond of--her answer to Rhea’s overly fussy Archbishop outfit--with lingering touches. After lacing the dress up, he grazed the nape of her neck with his teeth. She let out a soft, shuddering sigh. 

“That isn’t fair,” she complained as he continued dressing her. He had such a proud little smirk on his face. She’d get her revenge soon enough.

The fitted bodice and puffy cap sleeves emphasized her small waist, and the high collar and plunging neckline were her rebellion against the ridiculous and painful notions of chastity and “purity” the church had spread in the past.

When she’d originally proposed the idea, Dimitri had proclaimed it “utterly blasphemous,” but blushed hard when she first appeared in the gown a few years ago. She heard no further complaints.

He wound an aiguillette of pink and white cording around one shoulder, and diligently styled her hair before placing a Sothis-inspired circlet on her head.

With a hand at the small of her back, Dimitri guided her to a full length mirror. 

“My queen,” Dimitri exhaled in her ear after admiring her reflection, and placed a kiss at the junction of her jaw. His hand went to her hip, sliding low. “Let me indulge in you?”

“Mitya… we can’t.” She desperately wished they had the time for intimacy, but now it was her turn to spoil him.

Byleth assisted the Savior King in dressing in the black double breasted suit he’d commissioned to compliment her gown. It had been carefully designed to be reminiscent of both his Academy uniform and his war armor while still looking forward to the future, and even without all his accoutrements the ensemble caused her an undue amount of distress. She buttoned up the jacket and smoothed her hands over his broad chest, then coaxed him to her level with a tug on his collar. He was possibly… too gorgeous. 

She took her time in kissing him before she draped a royal blue sash from his left shoulder to his right hip, and pinned it in place with a silver crest of Fódlan. The tail of the sash draped halfway down his right thigh, ending in a brush of metallic tassels. She carefully set a multitude of adornments over his chest and shoulders, and swapped his usual eyepatch for a more decorative one. Dimitri adjusted his hair into the pulled back style she was so fond of, and she placed his crown upon his head.

“My handsome King,” she murmured as she embraced him from behind. He admired her handiwork in the mirror and rested a broad hand over her smaller ones.

“Thank you, my love.”

Byleth was sorely tempted to do indecent things to her husband but their guest would arrive shortly; there was still much to do.

Hand in hand they proceeded to the audience chamber. Dimitri was pacing and though it mirrored how she felt inside, the constant click-clack of his boots along the steps was still irritating. 

“Sit.” An exasperated Byleth gestured to her throne. 

“No no, I couldn’t possibly,” he fussed at her out of a sense of propriety, “it’s yours.” 

Byleth stared intently at her husband for an awkward minute until he finally gave up with a sigh. Her lips curled into a sneaky smile. She loved when that little trick worked. As soon as he was seated she perched herself on one knees and took the task of peppering sweet kisses all over his face very, very seriously. 

She pressed her lips to his eyelid, his gently arching brow, each cheekbone, the delicate bridge of his nose, his chin, the corner of his mouth--every one of his fine features received her affection. It was too much even for Dimitri to resist, especially knowing they’d soon have an audience. 

“My beloved,” he breathed, blushing pleasantly.

“There’s my sweet prince,”’ she breathed, nosing him for a final kiss. “We’ll get through today, no matter how it goes.”

They were lost in each other's gaze until a cacophony of wyverns announced the arrival of their esteemed guest and his entourage. Suddenly they were _up_ , adjusting each other’s outfitsbefore reversing their roles--Byleth took her place on the throne, Dimitri stood loyally beside her.

The reception room doors were pulled open with a heavy creak, and an aide called out:

“Announcing His Majesty, King of Almyra, Claude von Riegan."


	2. Distracted By Your Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warm reception is thrown at Garreg Mach for the newly crowned King of Almyra. 
> 
> “Tell me, truly. Are you happy, Byleth?”

“Announcing His Majesty, King of Almyra, Claude von Riegan."

Anxiety bubbled and squelched in Byleth’s stomach. 

The reception room doors were pulled open to reveal an ethereal figure clad in a loose robe of shimmering pale gold silk, exposing his strong chest, comfortable and confident. A delicately patterned sash was wrapped low about his waist. Billowing dark gold pants were tucked into highly polished boots; his silhouette was not dissimilar to his Academy uniform. 

Byleth noticed that his fine features had only sharpened with time, and his hair tumbled in luxurious dark waves that had been combed in a perfectly windswept style past his collar. As he approached, his emerald green eyes flickered between them curiously but honed in on Byleth. Her cheeks grew hot at the impish smile the Almyran King gave her. She had entirely forgotten the sway he had over her.

Byleth’s gown swirled around her legs as she rose from her throne. Dimitri grasped her outstretched hand and led her down the shallow steps to meet the newly-crowned king, the heels of their boots clicked in unison with each step. 

“Your... Majesties?” Claude bowed with a flourish to the royal couple, tipping his smirking face upwards.

Before Byleth could say anything, Dimitri had dropped her hand, stepping down from the final step to catch Claude in a greeting. Claude grazed his cheeks against Dimitri’s. Was that… an Almyran greeting? Oh no, she didn’t want to be  _ that _ close. Anxiety suddenly intensified.

“ _ Your _ Majesty,” Dimitri laughed. It was a warm, full-bellied sound. Byleth was surprised to hear it. “By the Goddess, it is good to see you again.”

“You seem well, Mitya.” Claude searched Dimitri’s blue eye as they parted.

_ Mitya _ ? Claude used the same precious nickname for Dimitri that she did--a nickname not even his childhood friends used. There was much warmth between both kings. A curious butterfly tickled at the back of her mind. What exactly had been the extent of their relationship during the Officers Academy?

“Hey, Teach?” Claude snapped her out of staring for a second time; she didn’t bother correcting him about using her title or name. “You’re a part of this too.” He greeted her in the same fashion as he had Dimitri, pressing cheek to cheek, then slipped his hand into hers, guiding her to stand between them. “Ravishing as always.”

Byleth laughed awkwardly at the greeting and at the over-the-top compliment. “ _ You _ haven’t changed a bit, you silver-tongued scoundrel,” she sparred back. By his smile, Claude was enchanted by the fiery reply. 

Dimitri took her other hand, and the royal heliographer swooped in to record this moment for history’s sake. They were poised and coiffed by attendants for what felt like forever before the shot was taken, and they had to wait a quarter of an hour for the exposure to take. 

The heliographer wanted to take one more laboriously posed photo of the trio, but Flayn was quick to remind the group that there was a schedule to follow. So down the stairwell they marched, and they were ushered into the great hall with much fanfare.

Despite spying friends and allies in the crowd, she felt a pit of dread in her stomach at the full room of upturned faces. Dimitri scooped up her trembling hand in an effort to inspire confidence, and they made the announcement jointly. The formalities continued, she found herself admiring how Dimitri and Claude held the room with natural ease and a comfortable cadence.

Shortly thereafter, they broke bread. Almyran mead and wines from the more temperate reaches of Fódlan flowed freely, followed by dish after dish of spicy cuisine. There was plenty of time to relax, drink, laugh and eat. 

The world was on the cusp of moving into a golden age; there was much to discuss. There was lots of laughter, talk of peace and expansion of infrastructure, growth in the arts and sciences. 

“I never thought we’d be able to unite the country as well as we have, nevermind the progress we’ve seen,” Dimitri confided easily in his old classmate. As he sung Byleth’s praises as a leader, friend and partner, her ears burned. She didn’t feel like she’d done anything particularly special. She had always been there for her students-turned-allies. The larger accomplishments he bragged about were merely things that stemmed naturally from the close relationships they’d formed while at the Academy.

Dimitri was never quite this animated with others. Was he drunk? Byleth eyed his place setting--the wine glass was untouched. No, Dimitri was happy. She reached for his gloved hand under the table and squeezed, proud of him. 

However, she hadn’t refused a single round, and she was  _ feeling _ it.

As dinner wound down, the melodies of string music rose to swell through the great hall. 

Byleth was pulled into her Archbishop role by the crowd. Catching up with former students and treasured allies was always a pleasure, but by a certain hour Byleth hadn’t an ounce of group socializing stamina left. She whispered in Dimitri’s ear to let him know she needed a break, then slipped onto the empty terrace to partake in the cool evening air.

The gentle scent of moonflower tickled her nose as she approached the edge of the terrace. Birds were announcing the arrival of dusk, joining bats that were peeping awake for the evening, flitting around the spires of the cathedral to catch the last rays of the sun’s warmth. 

With her busy life, Byleth enjoyed having moments like this to herself, but the click of low heeled boots on stone announced the end of her respite.

“Trying to escape, Teach?” 

Ah, so Claude had followed her out. His careful cornering wasn’t terribly surprising to Byleth, nor particularly unwelcome. She glanced back at her former student and nodded graciously. “I’m no longer a professor of  _ anything _ , Claude.”

“Eh, ‘Your Grace’ sounds weird.”

“I agree,” Byleth conceded with a shrug as he settled at the railing beside her. The gentle, clean scent of pine and lavender tickled her nose--a scent that brought back pleasant memories of their time spent together during school days. “However,  _ King of Almyra _ suits you well, Your Majesty,” she appraised. They stood side by side. She remembered their heights being somewhat close, but had he always been this broad of shoulder?

“Thanks.” His wide, boyish smile stirred up old feelings. “Wouldn’t have been possible without your support at Derdriu.” He pulled a folded rectangle of parchment from his breast pocket and offered it to Byleth with a flick of his wrist. “Look familiar?”

“Hmm.” It took her a moment, but she didn’t even need to unfold the letter--there was Claude’s name in her handwriting, complete with a poorly drawn frowny face. An incredulous smile spread over her lips. “...You kept this?”

“Of course I did. It's the most eloquent rejection I’ve ever received. I thought you’d get a kick out of it.”

The Archbishop laughed and tucked it safely away. To her surprise Claude wove his fingers with hers, raising her knuckles to his lips.

“Nevermind all this celebration business. I’m here for a redo. Dance with me.”

Byleth could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her hand; his expectant gaze melted her. Reduced to gibberish by the surprise of it all, she mumbled a positive and he swept her into the middle of the empty terrace. 

“Ah, we have the floor to ourselves,” he smiled, swinging her out then tucking her body close. But as they danced, the more she became annoyed. She hated how comfortably their bodies fit together. She hated that the playful look in his eyes gave her a pang of nostalgia. She had to look away.

“I... I don’t want to talk about work,” she blurted, not sure what else to say. 

“Great! Me neither. Dimitri got me all caught up on at least two-and-a-half of the last five years, though.” 

She laughed. “He is happy to see you. I haven’t seen that side of him since… well…” Byleth paused thoughtfully. “Perhaps when I started at the Officers Academy. Your comfortable bickering with one another always amused me.” 

“Glad to be of service,” Claude winked. 

Had the color of his eyes always been so intense? He still looked so young, lacking some of the fine lines that Dimitri had developed over the years. She got the impression Claude didn’t smile much.

“...No Hilda?” she prodded gently, curious about her former student and his closest Golden Deer ally.

“Hilda? Last I heard, she’s busy wooing Marianne and building an empire of the arts. We don’t talk much, but she designed this sash,” Claude bragged like a proud papa.

“I’m sorry to hear it, but it is a wonderful pattern,” Byleth complemented. 

“It’s ok. She’s happy, I’m happy,” Claude answered, keeping his true feelings shielded behind the mask of pleasantries he often wore. Par for the course. 

“Okay, my turn. When did you marry?”

With so much wine in her system, Byleth smiled fondly despite herself. Reminiscing about the Goddess Tower and her nervous Dimitri almost excusing himself out of her life, why, they were some of her favorite memories. “We proposed to one another right after the war.”

Claude clicked his tongue. “Here I was hoping you’d held out for me, but Dimitri’s a good back-up choice.”

Byleth snorted at his boldness, and asked skeptically, “You really waited five years to tell me this?” 

“Four years and nine moons to the day, but who’s counting.” 

_ Whoa _ . He’d made the admission so casually but she could feel the yearning behind it. She dug her heels in, pulled them to a stop. “Claude--”

Their hands were still clasped, and it felt like those beautiful blue-green eyes of his bored into her soul. “Tell me, truly. Are you happy, Byleth?”

He hadn't called her by name before. The over-familiarity of it made her turn red. However, she did not stumble over her answer.

“Of course I’m happy. Dimitri is a wonderful husband and a fair, kind leader.” 

“Good,” he leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You deserve everything in this world we’ve made.”

Claude’s energy confused her; he focused on her if they were in love. Between the intimate touch and the sudden drop in octave of his voice, she was heated her to her core. The song ended and Byleth used it as an excuse to peel away and recompose herself. 

Byleth returned to their table on the raised dais. Claude had shadowed her back into the hall but she lost him in the crowd. A part of her was glad to be away from him and his chaotic energy.

“I didn’t know you were still so close with Claude, Professor,” Flayn said, offering Byleth a glass of water.

_ I didn’t, either… _ Byleth thought as she accepted. Surely her cheeks were still flushed. 

Flayn began to groom Byleth’s hair and outfit back into the image of perfection, powdering her forehead and nose.

“It’s a relief we can all be friends despite the years that have passed, isn’t it?” Flayn continued to gush in that earnest way of hers, perpetually oblivious to  _ actual  _ flirting. Byleth’s mind wandered as the emerald-haired girl babbled on; she scanned the room for her iron-clad king.

Maybe Byleth was reading too much into things. Claude had  _ always _ been a flirt, he’d had half a decade--no no, four years and nine moons to the day, apparently--to refine his game. It was nothing. Tonight was for celebration and rekindling old bonds. 

There. Dimitri was heading out of the hall with Claude, who had taken his arm. From this distance it was easy to see how Dimitri towered above their guest. She made eye contact with Dedue, and that was all it took for the former vassal to fall back into his role. Byleth was grateful. She wondered if Dimitri and Claude were going to imbibe that herb tincture Mitya favored so much and laughed a little to herself. 

Flayn was confused by the sudden outburst, and tilted her head like a puppy. “Your Grace?”

“Flayn, dance with me,” Byleth blurted, needing a distraction. 

“Certainly!”

* * *

Free from the hustle and bustle of the main hall’s festivities, Dimitri offered Claude a dose of his herb tincture. Dedue said nothing but Dimitri could feel the weight of his judgment.

“Oooh, new formula? Thanks! That tea you used to make was...” Claude grimaced. “I guess you could say it did the job.”

“Hold the oil under your tongue for a minute,” instructed Dimitri, passing the dropper to his old friend.

Claude did as instructed, but coughed after swallowing the bitter liquid. “Still tastes like shit.”

Dimitri laughed, pocketing the bottle.

“Who formulated that for you?” 

“Linhardt. He’s not as keen on potions as you, but he’s good at what he does.”

“Guess we should’ve talked more,” Claude said, clearly impressed. 

Dedue trailed the two kings from a respectful distance. Together they quietly strolled the grounds of Garreg Mach, letting the magic of Dimitri’s bitter solution wash over them. 

“I’m glad you found love with Byleth,” Claude said, unprompted. “The way you look at her would make anyone long for that.” 

Before Dimitri could stutter over a reply, Claude continued, “I’m surprised you two haven’t had a kid yet, Mitya.”

It took Dimitri a pained moment to find the right answer. “Though she has favored us with most everything else, the Goddess has not bestowed that particular blessing.”

Silence hung heavy in the air. 

“Sorry to hit a sore spot,” Claude apologized, averting his gaze.

Muscle memory brought their booted feet to the courtyard in front of their old classrooms. Dimitri took the lead, opening the heavy door to the former Golden Deer room. 

“I wanted to show this to you. We don’t train knights anymore. The classrooms are used for summits, bringing together Fódlan’s best and brightest to solve issues of health, education, infrastructure and unity.” 

“Glad to hear we’re working toward the same thing,” Claude slipped into the room, breathing in the book-stale air. Union of Fódlan banners had replaced the Alliance’s Golden Deer banners; the crest consisted of a dragon--the Goddess--with its wings outstretched, sheltering a deer and a lion that were delicately touching paws; the last remnants of the Holy Kingdom of Faerhgus and the Leicester Alliance. The black eagle had been visibly scrubbed from this new history, though Edelgard’s unfortunate fate would be a cautionary tale for the ages.

Claude spun on his heel to take in the rest of the former classroom. “Damn, this place brings back all sorts of memories.” 

“I feel similarly,” Dimitri agreed, turning on oil lamps as they passed through. War strategy books had once filled the bookshelves. They had been replaced with tomes that detailed all sorts of social projects the recently unified Fódlan had completed, and proposals they were working toward. 

“If you would,” Dimitri gestured to one of the old writing desks, and pulled one of the volumes down for Claude to thumb through. Sitting side by side, Dimitri commented on the various projects he was most proud of as Claude spent time thoughtfully examining the book.

Dimitri felt his shoulders sink and frisson spreading across his skin as the herbal remedy started to take effect. This was familiar and comfortable. The two allies spent hours dissecting results of solved issues and possible solutions for others.

“You two have done  _ so _ much. Leaving the Alliance to you was the right choice. Seeing you again makes me happy.” 

Dimitri glanced up from the book to see that Claude’s smile reached his eyes. A rare gift. He was relaxed enough to give his friend a gentle smile, the kind he reserved for Byleth. 

“We are happy to see you are well, too, Claude. Please let us assist with anything Almyra may need.” 

A spell of laughter overtook Claude, and it filled the empty classroom. He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “Damn it, Dimitri!  _ Always _ so formal. I appreciate it, but I  _ meant _ I was happy to see  _ you, _ a human being I care about, thriving.”

Dimitri wasn’t sure how to respond to such kindness. He could stick to polite conversation and politics, but talking of emotion with anyone besides Byleth or Mercedes made him want to run. 

The Almyran King sighed at Dimitri’s shutdown. “These few years have been hard for all of us. Democracy ain’t easy. But she’s really brought out the best in you, Mitya. Something I never had the chance to try,” his usual confident smile had turned wistful. 

_ Mitya.  _ Claude had been the first person to call him that. Byleth came to the same nickname on her own much later, but hearing it from  _ his _ lips, in that throaty way he’d always said it, Dimitri couldn’t stand it. His heart beat so loudly he was sure Claude could hear. As his emotions churned he tried to change the subject back to Fódlan.

Unfortunately for Dimitri, Claude would not be dissuaded. “Do you ever think about us? Yanno.  _ Us _ .”

“Ah…” The other king’s voice caught in his throat, his heart pounding even faster.

_ Not a day passes without thought of you. _

The seconds felt like they slipped into an eternity before he mustered the confidence to continue. He refused to meet Claude’s gaze.

“...I don’t have any right to those feelings,” he whispered. Dimitri exhaled harshly through his nose and looked away, red-faced. “Why do we only speak about this when I’m high.” 

It wasn’t a question, just a sad, frustrated statement.

“Because you’re trapped in your own head, my King.” Claude’s gentle touch swept up Dimitri’s shoulder, fingers curling at the nape of his neck in an achingly familiar gesture. “I’d have spent all my days with you if you would’ve let me.” 

Dimitri panicked as his former lover nosed close, but at the last moment he cupped a gloved hand over the other man’s mouth.

“Claude...” he breathed, sliding off the bench and out of reach. The lurch of panic was so strong he’d almost run away, but pivoted to place a key onto the table and bowed politely to his fellow king. Claude remained seated, bemused and seemingly unphased by the awkward rejection. 

“You are welcome to stay and read as long as you like. Goodnight.”

“I’ll do that. Goodnight, Your Kingliness.”

Dedue escorted him back to Byleth’s apartment. Dimitri swallowed the self-conscious lump in his throat and asked Dedue about the bakery in Duscur he and Ashe had opened. Dedue was a good friend--he didn’t mention the hot red flush that stained Dimitri’s cheeks.

* * *

Byleth jumped at the click of the door. Dimitri entered without a word and was trying to be as quiet as possible, bless him. The same frustrated energy that buzzed inside her head was radiating from his towering silhouette. From where she lay on the bed she could see him remove his armor and other finery without much trouble. She’d haphazardly discarded her jewelry and gown all over their sitting area, too distracted to care too much. She’d surely regret it in the morning.

Claude’s sweet words had churned up emotion she’d compartmentalized long ago. 

How the hell was she was going to bring this up? They had to talk about it, but maybe,  _ just _ maybe she should have burned the letter when he was out. Or better yet, she could roll under the bed and die.

Byleth was so trapped in a loop of awkward thoughts, she squealed when Dimitri touched her. 

“My beloved, you are not yourself.”

“Neither are you,” Byleth snarled and pulled away from his gentle caress. Sometimes she wondered how much of her personality was her own, and how much was Sothis. “Sorry. I’m sorry, love. I’ve been wound up for hours. I…” 

She ruffled her hair and groaned, stalling, before she slipped from between the sheets and tottered to the other side of the room. His gaze followed. The letter was in her overcoat where she’d left it, still perfectly creased. She stubbed her toe on the coffee table, swearing as she hobbled back to bed. 

“Oof. I’m fine,” she waved off his concern with the letter. “Read this. He is incorrigible.” 

Byleth poked the yellowed parchment against Dimitri’s chest and funneled herself back under the covers, worrying her throbbing toes.

She couldn’t look at his face as he read it, and instead looked at his hands. He unfurled the top two thirds then read the short letter aloud dryly:

_ Claude von Riegan, _

_ Students and professors must not fraternize in such a manner as you approached me at the Garreg Mach Ball last night. Additionally, as I am not your house leader, I am afraid further extracurricular contact must cease immediately. This includes any and all upstanding appointments. This behavior will not be reported as long as you respect the boundaries between student and professor moving forward. _

_ Professor Byleth Eisner _

Dimitri glanced at her with a quizzical look. “It came to a disciplinary letter? I... see. This seems standard enough. You could have done far worse than this.” 

“No no, uh…” Byleth’s usual composure had dropped into the trash. She stumbled through collecting her thoughts with a nervous flourish of her hands. Her cheeks felt so so  _ so _ hot. “He was my first, ah… I guess that ancient history doesn’t matter. Fold down the last third.”

Dimitri did as instructed. Scrawled at the very bottom was a note; one could tell from the sheen on the ink it had been written only hours ago:

_ We’re kings and queens now, Byleth. No rules. Time to make new memories? _

_ -Claude _

“By the Goddess’ breath,” Dimitri growled, then started to laugh in a way Byleth hadn’t heard for many years. It was wavering with madness, and she didn’t like it. She pressed her palm over his heart, silently imploring him to center himself.

“So… anyway… that’s how my evening went,” she gave him a sardonic smile, slouching the full weight of her body against him. The strength of his heartbeat made her feel better.

“Mine wasn’t so different.” Dimitri paused. “Claude approached me with a similar proposition.”

“What?  _ Really _ ?” Her emerald green eyes flicked up to meet his blue one in surprise.

This information changed things. He was after them both? Was he trying to hit upon weaknesses to break them apart? Byleth was not stupid--a marriage to either Dimitri or herself would be a boon to Claude’s ambition. 

“Dimitri, I need you to tell me exactly how ‘entangled’ you were with him. Was this a dagger situation?” 

“No! No, nothing like that. I… “ He grew quiet. 

“Dimitri, I don’t judge. I need to know how he hurt you,” Byleth coaxed. 

A remorseful look flashed in his eye. “You’re gravely mistaken. Claude was nothing but devoted. I didn’t deserve--”

“You deserve the moon and stars, my love,” Byleth interrupted, shaking her head. For someone so wonderful, Dimitri had battled uncommonly low self confidence for as long as she had known him. 

He placed a gentle finger on her lips, shaking his head. He was gravely serious when he said, “Byleth,  _ please _ . I was cruel to him.”

After her sudden return ten years ago she had been on the receiving end of his callous behavior for moons, of course. But to hear that he’d acted that way while  _ in _ a relationship was a shock, and she suddenly felt awful for Claude. 

“Do you still have feelings for him?” Byleth tried her best to sound neutral as she watched his face.

Holding her gaze, Dimitri nodded and murmured a quiet confession. “I do regret pushing him away.”

His quick honesty was refreshing, though it made the truth sting no less. Byleth wrung her hands in Dimitri’s long hair, tilting his face to hers.

She wore a frustrated frown. “I didn’t realize how much I missed his bright energy until tonight.”

“I feel the same,” Dimitri admitted, staring into a void.

Byleth interrupted the silence that had fallen over the room. “Are we falling into that schemer’s trap?” 

Dimitri tipped Byleth back on the bed, no words passing between them before he pressed his mouth over hers. He was rough and demanding, his calloused fingers curling into her hips.

She knew what he was doing and she absolutely let him, undoing the ties at his waist before slotting him inside her. She moaned obscenely, bucking into him. It was not loving and it didn’t need to be. Sometimes you needed to fuck. 

They both wanted to fuck Claude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--The cheek-to-cheek greeting Claude gave them is called "dos besos" in Spain. You can read up on it here: https://www.sincerelyspain.com/blog/2017/11/6/when-and-how-do-i-give-dos-besos  
> \--Tiddy out Claude is best Claude, I hope we can agree. The modesty panel IntSys gave him during the Academy phase was a travesty.  
> \--Dimitri and his weeds/weed oil LOL. Dedue will *always* judge you, Dimitri.


	3. That's All I Can Give Right Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How was every one of the men in Byleth's immediate circle being so irritating right now?

Despite being lavished with attention to the point her body couldn’t physically handle it anymore, the demons of anxiety ensured Byleth had a hard time falling asleep. She woke before the sun had fully risen and decided to take her time getting ready. Laying in bed half-awake was pointless.

Rhea’s example be damned, for her day-to-day, she was a pants-and-blouse wearing Archbishop. She’d traded the creams and blues of the other woman’s fussy gown for black and gray and small touches of pink, cream and gold. She only wore (some of) the jewelry Rhea had left behind because Dimitri had deemed her look a little too plain otherwise. She conceded to his opinion but had the stupid, heavy headdress modified to look more like Sothis’ had. A simple capelet with gold trim was the last real indication of her station. 

“How do you want to address Claude?” Dimitri asked over the rim of his teacup. He’d finished dressing before she’d even finished washing up, and stood by the vanity as she completed her routine.

So this was the first thing he wanted to talk about today?  _ Fine _ . She wasn’t the type to mince feelings when it came to her role, and the crux of this situation was work, not pleasure.

“I’m certainly not going to bring anything up,” she replied with an arched brow as she applied the barest amount of eyeshadow. “I’d rather ignore it all, to be perfectly honest. We have to set aside romantic feelings and get work done.”

Byleth glanced at his reflection in the mirror before returning to her makeup. His mouth had twisted into a frown. “I... don’t believe I can do that.”

_ Great _ . She sighed, glaring at him. “If I’m not enough for you, just tell me so--”

“Byleth!” he grew more distraught.

“Then what are you trying to say to me, Mitya? What am I supposed to think?”

The teacup and saucer were carefully abandoned on her vanity table, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I don’t mean that at all, my beloved.”

“Will you just tell me--”

The bell tolled to mark the hour, interrupting her. Byleth groaned, giving her husband an annoyed kiss as she pushed him away, standing to glare at him.

Though small, she exudes an imposing energy.

“Tell me. I’m not leaving until you do.” She waited for his response. Moments ticked by. “Dimitri.”

“I love you, Byleth. That will never change,” he said with unshaken confidence, wrapping her in his arms. It was difficult not to melt against his strong frame but Byleth managed to resist. “I… I wonder what it would be like to have him in my life again. You’re not curious? If I recall, at the Academy you spent more time with Claude than you ever did with me--”

... _ That _ was a lie. She was the Blue Lions house professor, her days were consumed with Dimitri (and his classmates). Was that really his perspective? That she’d been neglectful?

“You’re hooked on the ‘what if’ and the ‘maybe’ of it all,” she cut him off in annoyance, not willing to acknowledge the tint of jealousy in his comment this time around. Byleth huffed, “I don’t have time to entertain these childish notions. Besides, I have the person I need most right in front of me.”

Dimitri’s expression became so  _ soft _ . She kissed him and sighed. 

“I’ll meet you downstairs.”

One wind of a stairwell away, and it was back to work. 

Byleth had been working closely with Seteth when Dimitri arrived. “The glory of a thriving democracy,” she greeted dryly, sliding a stack of folders across the desk for his review. 

“Better than endless war,” Seteth commented, passing their new arrival a notebook and a quill pen, “and the drain on our coffers.”

The Archbishop laughed dryly. “It’s still a drain, Seteth. There’s just a more immediate benefit for society.” 

They worked diligently until the bell tower struck at half past the hour, their appointed meeting time with the Almyran king.

“I’ve had enough of sitting,” Byleth complained, leaving the Archbishop’s office for the audience chamber. She remembered how Claude would often arrive late for their tea dates, but he was always gracious with his apologies. She didn’t actually mind. It was just how he'd always been.

As expected, Claude arrived fashionably late, and oh, he did look fashionable. The purple and bright gold sarband on his head matched the sash wrapped low around his hips, which complimented the pale cream silk overcoat he wore.

Seteth seethed slightly; she could have _sworn_ he’d made a comment under his breath about Claude’s tardiness due to being Almyran.

She wasn’t sure if Claude had heard it or not (Goddess, she _hoped_ he hadn’t), but she shot Seteth  _ a look _ .

At the head of the table, Claude laid out his plan.

“In the most ideal scenario, we would unite Almyra with Fódlan. As you know, disputes along the border have quieted in recent years. With my ascension to the throne, I’m sure we can find a solution to open the borders entirely. But… we are a proud people, so it ain’t gonna be easy,” he admitted. “The easiest way would be through marriage but it seems you are both occupied, so instead…”

A-ha.

Byleth tuned the rest of his proposal out, steaming in her seat. This newly gleaned information made the prior night’s double confession extra shrewd. Had Claude actually wanted her, or had he been after the stability and ease that marrying the Archbishop of Fódlan’s ancient church would provide his country? She hadn’t missed Claude’s sting at seeing Dimitri beside her when he’d arrived, and his probing questions and demeanor during their time on the terrace made a lot more sense.

Did Claude really want Dimitri, or was he merely lamenting a lost chance to wed the Savior King of Fódlan? Having only Dimitri’s side of the story, she was unsure. In interpersonal relations, her sweet king was too quick to take people at their word. Later he would curse himself for so easily believing their lies. There was always a later.

Either way, marriage with the sovereign of another nation was undeniably the easiest way to secure stability. 

“...negotiations don’t have to be a series of stuffy round table discussions. We can talk about it like we’d talk about anything,” Claude said with a shrug, twirling a pen he’d snatched from the table. “Just the three of us.”

“If we can reach an agreement that is amicable to both our nations, the method doesn’t matter,” Dimitri agreed cooly. 

Byleth held back on sharing her true feelings and simply said, “Then we shall spend the rest of your time here wisely.”

The meeting adjourned. She encouraged the kings to converse in the reception room while she hung back.

“A moment, Seteth.”

Once the doors clicked shut she carefully chose her words. “Do  _ not _ disparage Claude’s background,” she harshed, keeping her voice low. “Considering our own circumstances and how you still insist on hiding your ears, I am disappointed.”

Her reprimand made the stoic, serious man blush deep scarlet. With a respectful bow, he said, “My apologies, Your Grace. It will not happen again.”

She left him to his work, seething. How was every one of the men in her immediate circle being so irritating right now?

* * *

Dimitri turned to her warmly when she rejoined them, slipping a hand at the small of her back.

“Tea?”

So it was decided they would take tea in the courtyard, much to her dismay. Towers of sandwiches and sweets were delivered, complete with a pot of ginger tea, Byleth’s current favorite. The meal was fine, but she had a sour taste in her mouth about this entire situation.

Conversation comes easily, and for that she is glad. An attendant offers to refill their teapot for a second steeping; both her companions look to her, as she is the one with the most pressing schedule. Byleth is enjoying herself so much, she extends their time together. 

They continue to chat about this, that and the other--Byleth’s recent gold star catches, vistas she and Dimitri had found while on long rides around the Monastery. The tea from the second steeping is almost gone. Claude took the moment to lean forward on his elbows, offering a smirk across the table at the royal couple.

“So what did you think about last night?” 

“I think you’re a cheeky dastard,” Byleth answered without pause.

Claude’s laughter rose to the top of the gazebo.

...So he’d waited until they were disarmed to ask.

At her reaction, Dimitri swallowed his answer and turned red.

“Look, now matter how our negotiations go, I want to spend time with you,” he sought their hands across the table. His grip was strong and warm. “The war is over. Our hard work is starting to show results. We have time. I can’t think of better people to spend it with. I think we could be great together,” he ended on a lilting note, flashing them his most charming smile.

“As do I,” Dimitri said quietly, but his tone was confident.

...What? Byleth did her best to conceal her feelings, looking at both of them cooly.

Dimitri was just  _ full _ of surprises this week. The night before last her king had come home half-starved, appetite lost due to a moon-long anxiety attack, and last night he’d almost lost his composure upon hearing that Claude had confessed to each of them separately. This morning he was trying to dodge giving her proper answers, yet now he easily admitted to thoughts of some sort of relationship with his wife and an ex-boyfriend? Was he serious? 

“Byleth?” Dimitri prompted.

Her eyes flicked up from where they’d dropped to stare blankly at the tablecloth. Their intense, expectant looks made her stomach flutter.

“Let us reforge our friendship first,” she answered neutrally, slipping her hand from Claude’s. 

The Almyran king’s smile felt extra radiant. “I’ll take it.”


	4. I Wanna Touch You But I'm Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the effort of reestablishing bonds, Byleth and Dimitri meet Claude for an early morning training session.
> 
> Claude is utterly irritating.

Byleth was scheduled to perform daily Archbishop duties for the duration of Dimitri and Claude’s time at the monastery. However, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with them both to suss out the possibility of an alliance. So it had been decided to squeeze in as much socializing as often as possible, even if the hours were not convenient. 

The fog was extra crisp this morning. She and Dimitri donned casual uniforms that closely resembled the garb of the now-defunct Officers Academy, but Byleth had shunned the typical skirt in favor of pants. 

“You look really good in this,” Byleth said as he pulled on his blazer. Her hands smoothed down his sides, and she tugged at the hem before zipping it up. “It reminds me of the day we met.”

“Do you think about that day often? Let me,” he took her hairbrush then began to carefully detangle her hair. She hummed at the sensation of his fingernails on her scalp as he pulled her tresses into a tight ponytail.

“Of course I do,” she hummed happily, watching in the mirror as he finessed her long, thick hair. He was so doting. “As soon as I met you I knew I needed to be near you. I didn’t think we’d end up like this, but I’m glad.”

Dimitri smiled proudly, sweeping the brush through one last time. He dipped to rest his chin on her shoulder, catching her eye in their mutual reflection. “I’m glad you picked me as well, my beloved.” 

He took a minute to pull his own hair back, and before they left the apartments, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on the top of her head. “This _is_ quite nostalgic,” he said of their reflection. His smile was so warm.

The sky was still dark, but there is a faint glow on the eastern horizon. Claude was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he was waiting inside. They pushed through the large doors to find they were alone, just the two of them. 

Her hackles were rising.

“He’s late.”

Claude was always late. It hadn’t bothered her before, but after yesterday’s proposition it struck a nerve.

“Then let us spar first,” Dimitri strode forward, unfazed. 

They choose practice weapons from the rack--Byleth’s choice had been sword--and begin to spar. The fight is close. His sheer strength is knee buckling, but sword is not his forte; lance is where he shines the brightest. Between her smaller stature and speed, Byleth might have the upper hand here--if she can find an opening.

Dimitri is suddenly distracted and Byleth uses the opportunity to take him down, knocking him back with a well-placed elbow to the chest. She points the training sword to his throat with a flourish. 

“Yield?” Byleth smirks defiantly. It’s always a rush to see him compromised, even if it was just a game. She could count the times she’d won a match against him on one hand.

Dimitri coughed out his reply. “ I yield.”

She drops the point of her sword and tiptoed to kiss the small pink mark she’d left on his throat, tenderly rubbing at the spot she’d elbowed. When he didn’t respond in his usual cute manner of trying to catch her in a kiss, she frowned and followed his gaze.

Claude, dressed in plain clothes for their training session, starts to clap.

This was annoying. Dimitri never let his attention slip.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Claude bowed with a flourish to Byleth, then to Dimitri, “Your Majesty.”

She had no patience for him at this moment. 

“I must leave soon to lead the morning prayer, so you’re fighting me right now.” Byleth said.

“Oh! Sure. Sorry I’m late. Do you always keep such an early schedule?” he chattered.

She ignored answering his question with a shrug. She didn’t care if her irritation showed. “Your choice, pick whatever you like.”

Claude studied the weapon racks before settling on lance and grabbed two. He pressed one into her hands.

Byleth’s face scrunched up. “I’m terrible with this weapon.”

“So am I! Maybe I’ll be half as good as you,” he winked, giving the training lance a twirl as he walked into the center of the grounds. 

He didn’t look as unpracticed as he claimed.

Dimitri watched from the sidelines, utterly invested--this was his preferred weapon, after all.

The mist starts to clear as they begin their skirmish.

Claude is so light on his feet, with impeccable footwork to match. Though she trains daily, she is only a few steps above Dimitri in agility--which is to say she has two clods for feet. Watching his lithe form is entrancing--until he takes a jab at her and she’s pulled from admiration to alert.

They circle one another and she takes a few quick jabs from where she stands.

He narrowly skirts the attack. Claude’s laughter echoed in the grounds. “Gotta do better than that, Teach,” he said as he regained his footing and form. A menacing smile appeared on his handsome face. “Don’t you think--”

“ _No_.” She would not be distracted by his banter. Before he can finish his carefully-chosen taunt Byleth charges; he blocks and they brace against each other in a shoving match.

“There’s the Ashen Demon,” he appraised, a flash of delight in his eyes. “Impulsive as ever I see,” he sniffs as they part and circle one another again.

She missed this type of combat. Dimitri was a skull-crushing meat machine, always pushing forward, using brute force for domination. With words and actions, Claude seduced you into submission.

However… she did not want to be seduced. The longer the match dragged on, the more a rage churned inside of her. He was wasting her precious time. 

They clash and part a dozen times, chipping away at one another as the sun rises, whisking away the morning chill. Claude’s stance was faltering. Though natural dexterity is his advantage, Byleth’s endurance is hers.

“Do you yield?” she called from across the yard.

Even though sweat was dripping from his brow, and his breathing labored, Claude shook his head no. 

_He never gives up, does he?_ Byleth sent a flurry of jabs his way and the hits connected, causing him to stagger.

The opening is satisfying. She swept the butt of her lance behind his knees, sending him flat on his back. Byleth pointed the training lance was at his throat.

“Do you yield?” She asked a second time, standing menacingly over him.

Claude stared right back, breathless.

He didn’t--couldn’t--answer, but her adrenaline was so high she screamed, “ _Do you yield_?” 

“I yield to you,” Claude finally uttered. His tone was low and measured and it absolutely thrilled her. His sea-green eyes were dark with a mood she hadn’t seen in many years, with a smile to match.

The urge to throw the lance aside swelled within her. How easy it would be to take him under her. Have him beg with that brazen smirk on his face--

“FUCK!” she lunged in the opposite direction, pivoting again to drop her training lance safely away. 

Claude howled with laughter as he rolled onto his side. “You’re not even gonna offer a hand up? That’s not very charitable, Your Grace!” 

Dimitri stepped in to help him stand and called after her, but she ignored them both and stomped off to change.

Inside the changing room, she grabbed her things and locked herself into one of the small shower stalls. The pipes popped and squealed before the showerhead sprung to life; she let it run until the room was full of steam.

After all these years, Claude still teased out the same feelings from her. She was probably playing into his hand. She scrubbed her skin bright pink almost to the point of pain, she was so annoyed.

Byleth reemerged in simple black slacks and a black blouse with finely embroidered pink details at the collar. Her mint-green hair was pulled at the nape of her neck and a simplified replica of Rhea’s crown adorned her hairline. The entire ensemble was a more comfortable version of the Archbishop dress she donned for special occasions.

The two kings were chatting under the eaves. She paused to observe them for a moment. She was out of earshot, but Dimitri was listening intently to whatever Claude was explaining, an easy smile spreading across the blond man’s face. Then he _laughed_ , that wonderful full-bellied laugh she loved so much. Claude’s smile matched Byleth’s own--so he loved Dimitri’s laugh, too. 

Such a moment was nice to see. 

* * *

_It was so early that the sun hadn’t fully risen yet._

_Dimitri couldn’t believe he’d actually blurted out an invitation at Claude to join him on his weekly ride. He also couldn’t believe that Claude had accepted so casually. His heart thudded just thinking about it. They’d been spending time together after the weekly house leader meetings Edelgard had insisted upon running, sometimes talking for hours afterward._

_“Sure! It’s a date,” Claude had responded to the invitation in that easy cadence of his._

_Dimitri had turned bright red after that._

_School had been in session for just a few weeks, but the Golden Deer house leader flirted with everyone--though he did not seem to be a skirt-chaser like Sylvain. Dimitri knew he probably shouldn’t read too much into things. Surprisingly, Claude hadn’t been put off by the goddess-awful early hour he’d set._

_The monastery bell struck, marking a quarter-hour past their agreed-upon meeting time. No sign of the other house leader. Dimitri sighed and fetched his horse, greeting the gentle gelding with a treat in hand. He retrieved the saddle and other tack, and focused on grooming the steed._

_Perhaps Dimitri had misread their interactions as of late. Perhaps Claude had only answered that way to be kind. Which was in a way, more cruel--_

_“Mornin’,” a hot whisper blossomed in his ear. Dimitri made a stupid noise. The culprit hopped back and laughed._

_“G-good morning, Claude. I’ll wait for you to tack up,” Dimitri did his best to regain his composure, doing a double check on his own horse’s tack and hoping he didn’t look too ruffled._

_“Why? One horse is fine.” Claude leaned against the door frame and watched as Dimitri led the horse from the stall._

_“That’s not--”_

_“It’s fine! I’ll sit behind you,” Claude waved Dimitri’s concern away. He was watching Dimitri so intensely, it made the prince a bit nervous._

_If they took one horse, Claude would be sitting behind him, with his arms around his torso. There was no way he would survive this without bursting into flames. One horse was_ **_not_ ** _fine._

_Dimitri climbed into the saddle and began to exercise the horse out front as a warm-up. He could stiill feel Claude watching him._

_Dimitri was certain he was going to die today._

_“I can’t possibly--”_

_“Your Princeliness, it’s okay.” Claude assured one last time. “I don’t want to make you wait.”_

_It always saddened Dimitri when others used his title, but when Claude used silly nicknames he felt Dimitri hesitated a minute more, then agreed with a sharp nod. As soon as the horse was warmed up he stopped where Claude was waiting._

_Claude nimbly grasped the horn of the saddle, and with a quick step on the stirrups, slotted himself neatly behind Dimitri. His arms wrapped low around Dimitri’s abdomen._

_This was far too close, both far better and even worse than he’d imagined._

_He felt so hot, he was sure he looked like a tomato. Could Claude hear his heartbeat? No, it was thudding so strongly that the other student could probably feel it. He silently implored the Goddess to give him strength._

_Claude easily hooked his chin on Dimitri’s shoulder. “This okay?”_

_Dimitri could only hum a response. Sharing this closeness with Claude was not kind to Dimitri’s heart, but it was not unwelcome either._

_“Where are we going?” he asked as they passed through the gates._

_“My favorite spot in the mountains.”_

_“Ah, finally! My prince is sweeping me away,” his arms became impossibly tight around Dimitri’s middle._

_He was going to burn into ash where he sat--his ears were already on fire, undoubtedly the rest of him would go up in flames any second. Dimitri’s deeply uncomfortable silence only fed Claude’s delightful laugh._

_Dimitri set the horse settled into a comfortable canter down the gentle slope of the mountain trail. Claude was chattering away, asking all sorts of questions, questions Dimitri couldn’t run away from. Then began the ascent on the other side of the valley; this took much longer._

_They had a beautiful view of the monastery on one side, and a crystal blue mountain lake on the other. Trees were sparse._

_“Jeeze, it’s cold up here,” Claude’s teeth chattered even before they dismounted. Dimitri led his horse to drink, tethering and feeding her an apple._

_“This feels cold to you? I relish it, this weather feels like home,” Dimitri said wistfully as the horse crunched away on its snack. Claude swore under his breath, shaking off another shiver._ _“You’d melt into a puddle where I’m from,” he told the prince, then clung to Dimitri from behind as if they were still on the horse. “I’m sticking to you, otherwise I’m going to freeze.”_

_“Don’t you think this is a bit awkward?”_

_Claude tiptoed to whisper hotly in his ear. “Not at all. Do you?”_

_His ears burned, but he answered, “I suppose not. But this isn’t very...”_

_Dimitri wiggled away and took off his jacket, draping it over Claude’s shoulders._

_They sat in on a broad boulder that would serve as their table. The gentle breeze that blew through the thin fabric of his undershirt felt refreshing. Claude snuggled up beside Dimitri and produced a flask from inside his jacket._

_Claude took a pull then passed it to Dimitri. He took a sip of equal measure and savored the taste as Claude had._

_It didn’t taste like anything, but it certainly burned like fire._

_Dimitri coughed up most of the mouthful into a fine mist. Claude threw his head back and cackled, taking the flask back before Dimitri dropped it._

_“Is that... alcohol?” Dimitri wheezed._

_Claude howled with laughter. “It’s from a flask, what else would it be?”_

_Dimitri made a disgusted noise, then revealed a block of cheese, a couple more apples and a small loaf of bread from his pack. “Put something in your stomach before you get drunk.”_

_“...But that’s the point?”_

_“It is too early, Claude,” Dimitri chided with a sigh, slicing up an apple._

_“It’s Saturday!”_

_He tore the bread into small hunks, and layered one with a thin slice of apple and cheese, offering it to Claude. “It’s likely we’ll be assigned to lectures this afternoon. Eat.”_

_They made short work of their impromptu picnic meal, and had almost emptied the flask. Dimitri was feeling warm and relaxed, more confident than usual thanks to the alcohol. It seemed Claude wasn’t so cold anymore, either. He’d stopped shivering at least, and rested comfortably against Dimitri’s side._

_Away from the monastery, away from the academy, away from the complexities of their homelands and their pasts, they were just two young people enjoying one another’s company._

_Dimitri stole glances at his fellow house leader from the corner of his eye. They held easy conversation; Dimitri couldn’t help but let his gaze linger. Claude’s features were so fine, his laugh so carefree. Claude was totally and utterly unlike himself in almost every way, and Dimitri felt an intense attraction toward him._

_“My apologies for staring, but you have the most luxurious eyelashes I’ve ever seen, Claude.”_

_Claude choked mid-sip at the unexpected compliment, but recovered with a laughing cough._

_Dimitri boiled in his embarrassment and leaned away, eyes as bright and clear as the icy blue lake that stretched in front of them._

_“No, uh… thanks.”_

_A trembling hand smoothed over Dimitri’s gloved one._

_What? Dimitri swung his gaze to his classmate and was shocked to see the blush gracing the Golden Deer leader’s cheeks as he too, was staring straight ahead. Claude retreated and capped the flask as if they hadn’t touched at all._

_“We should get going if you want to make the lecture.”_

_“Ah, yes…”_

_Had he just imagined that? Dimitri thought he might die for the third time this morning._

_They rode home in the same fashion in which they arrived. Claude liked him too, even just a little? Ah._

_He still felt like he might burn in the saddle, but the reason was different._

_The pair returned to the monastery just in time to sneak into the back of the hall before the Hanneman began the early afternoon lecture. Though many in the class glanced back to watch them enter, Edelgard was the only one to shoot them an annoyed look._

_For once, Dimitri didn’t care._

* * *

Upon hearing her boots strike the granite floor, both men turned to her expectantly. Instantly there were butterflies in her stomach. Why did she feel so surprised to see they were waiting for her? Guilty conscience, perhaps? Of _course_ they would wait.

“Feeling… better?” Claude grimaced, worry imprinted on his brow. 

“Yes. I’m sorry,” Byleth sighed. Her tone came out more curt than intended, ungenuine. She noticed the flash of disappointment in Claude’s eyes and knew she would have to re-apologize for her poor apology. _I don’t want to manage the emotions of -two- men. Goddess help me._

Before she could offer a redo, Dimitri wrapped her in a hug.

“I _just_ showered, you big sweaty beast,” she howled, but didn’t retreat. Of course, he hugged her more. Licking his neck broke the spell--he made an unholy squeal. She laughed and pushed him playfully away.

“We were discussing tentative plans for the rest of the week. We’ll pin down the details while you work,” Dimitri offered, taking her hand. He really didn’t want her to leave so soon, did he? It was very sweet. “I’ll join you for the afternoon prayer,” he said.

“I look forward to it,” Byleth smiled gently, almost forgetting their guest was there at all. 

Claude cleared his throat. “No prayers for me. I’ll be in the library. See you at dinner,” he saluted with a wink.

As she left, the two men retook their practice arms, swords clattering. Dimitri’s laughter echoed in the otherwise empty arena. She had to remind herself that as troublesome as this situation was for her, perhaps Dimitri would benefit, and of course an alliance was also at stake. She absolutely had to push past her personal feelings in order to make both happen.

In the end, Byleth would try anything once to keep Dimitri from spiraling into depression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a lyric from "Touch" by Shura, it's a really pretty, bittersweet song.
> 
> It was fun to write the dimiclaude flashback. Cute awkward babs. T^T


	5. Minds Entwined, No Room For Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Claude share a moment in the library; Byleth entrusts him with a secret.

After responding to letters for most of the afternoon, Byleth discovered she had time to spare and before the afternoon prayer. Perhaps she should visit Claude in the library. It’s just down the hall from her office--it would be rude not to peek in and say hello.

He’d made a home for himself in the back of the room, books piled high around him. His feet were hitched on the table, a tome propped in his lap. 

“You’ve moved right back in,” she greeted casually upon catching his eye, nodding toward the teapot. Two tea cups--had Dimitri been here earlier? She hoped they’d had a nice time together.

She stopped just short of the table.

Before Byleth could say anything else, his head lolled back to take inventory of the room, and her gaze followed. They were indeed the only ones here. When she met his eyes again he immediately asked, “Do you resent inviting me here?”

Whoa, he’d called her out immediately.

“No. That isn’t it,” she lied, poorly.

“Really? I’d be pissed if a friend tried to kiss my partner.”

Byleth slumped into a chair and rubbed at her temples. “ _Claude_.”

“Teach?”

There was that incorrigible smirk she so loved and hated. She propped her head in one hand, sighing at her old friend. “Yes, I’m irritated. Can we talk about anything else?”

“Fine,” he closed the book he’d been studying and righted himself. Elbows on the table, he leaned forward to ask, “Do you really believe the scriptures you’re shilling?”

“Really?!” Byleth barked in disbelief. “So first you make a move on my husband, and then you insult me, in my house?”

“You have poor taste in guests,” Claude said with a smile, filing away every reaction. Damnit, he’d gotten a rise out of her again. It had been so long that she’d forgotten just how shrewd he could be when he was on the hunt. His eyes sparkled.

“Shut up,” was lamely all she could follow up with, and couldn’t help returning his smile.

“Anyway, you wanted a change of subject. You didn’t seem to care about any of this church riff-raff when you started at the Academy. Yet here we are... Your Grace,” he offered a bow of his head her way, with a flourish of one hand--just to rub it in, she was sure.

“The church and the Goddess are two separate things,” she said cooly. “You remember when my hair changed?”

“Of course, you became even more intriguing--”

Byleth shot him a look, but continued.

“It’s difficult not to believe in something when that something becomes part of you, inside and out.” She paused. To her surprise he remained quiet. This must be information he had been hungry for. “Sothis wasn’t quite how Rhea described in scripture, though I’m sure those were written to instill fear and control,” she shrugged. “I can’t… hear her anymore, but the more time that passes the more it feels like her personality emerges through mine. Or maybe I was supposed to be like this all along.” 

Claude was paying rapt attention. “Interesting you say that. Every time I see you, you’re different. More... alive? Eh, that’s not the right way to put it.”

 _He has no idea._ Byleth stood, tipping over the narrow table to reach for his hand. “I know we never got close enough for you to--”

“It wasn’t for lack of trying,” he purred an interruption, letting her guide his hand to her chest. The look she gave him must’ve been a sharp one because he immediately recanted. “Sorry! Sorry. I’ll shut up.”

“Feel.”

She placed the heel of his palm over her heart, his fingertips at her collarbone. An expression of surprise was laid plainly on Claude’s face. His fingertips clenched as if that would cause her dead heart to stir. “How…”

“I was stillborn. Yet as the Goddess Sothis’ vessel, I was given the chance to be as warm and alive as you or Dimitri or anyone else.”

* * *

_Dimitri shattered the hinges on one of the council room doors with a thunderous crack._

_The preparations for the strike on Fhirdiad were not going well._

_He and Felix had verbally lashed into each other this morning—an expert hunter, Felix knew exactly where to stab Dimitri to get a rise out of him._

_As righteous as always, Felix would not back down. Byleth couldn’t blame him entirely—he was still hurting too._

_Byleth had chipped through the first layer of his defense, and though she had been counseling him to the best of her ability, there was a lot of trauma he needed to work through._

_It was much too soon to expect a completely reformed version of their leader. It would take time and patience and frankly, work, for Dimitri to find some semblance of equilibrium._

_No one expected a fully-functioning Dimitri except for himself._

_She implored everyone to stay put, but the group scuffled to the front of the room as soon as she dashed out so they could watch from the safety of the doorway._

_He took great strides down the hall, tearing at his scalp. “I’m in no position to help anyone. I’m a monster,” he howled._

_Byleth jogged to keep pace. They turned the corner, out of their comrades’ view._

_“You’re more human than I--”_

_Dimitri whipped around, his face contorted in a deranged snarl. It took every ounce of strength in her bones to stand firm as the towering man screamed down at her._

_“What kind of twisted joke is that, Professor?”_

_Byleth was shaking but kept her voice cool. “It is no joke.”_

_The boar prince pressed in close and he did not stop bellowing. His teeth gnashed--he was truly wild in this moment. “Do you know what it’s like to flay people open? To watch them bleed onto the battlefield? To crush their heads and watch their bodies still flail? To enjoy those moments? I’m certainly not human--”_

_Time seemed to move so slowly. Byleth stood firm as she reached out to touch his face. His eye softened; her gentle touch broke the spell of his bloodlust. Like a wounded animal, Dimitri tried to retreat but she held firm._

_“Mitya,” she said quietly._

_The precious nickname awakened something in him. In his eye she saw a flash of the lovelorn boy prince who had idolized her so long ago. A sob hitched from deep in his chest, and he grabbed his head, pained._

_“P-professor! My apologies, I never meant to, I never--”_

_The prince sounded like himself again. Distraught, but wholly himself. Byleth smiled patiently._

_“You are no monster. You’re a man who has been through hell,” she said quietly, thumbing his cheek. “A man can be redeemed if he tries.”_

_She managed to coax his head to her chest, keeping him there for a few moments. Unused to close contact, he was awkward before he settled._

_“What? No…” He was red-faced as he pulled away, his eye wavering with disbelief. He swept her into his arms like a lover would, frantically searching for a heartbeat, but there was none. She felt so small in his arms as he scrambled to find a pulse._

_Byleth brushed her lips against his ear, “I’m the monster that will always stand beside you, Dimitri.”_

* * *

The cathedral bells began to toll. Byleth released Claude’s hand and offered a rueful smile.

“Time for the afternoon prayer. Back downstairs with me.”

So many questions shone in his bright eyes as she moved away. “You can’t go now, Teach!”

“I must. Join me in prayer, Claude,” she teased. He just groaned at her, annoyed. She enjoyed watching him reconcile his differences for a moment, but then sighed, “See you tonight, then.”

Byleth spun on her heel and left. She knew exactly why Claude was not fond of organized religion, but it was a mite disappointing he wouldn’t attend just to support her. She pried open one of the heavy library doors with a creak. 

Suddenly, the door seemed to open of its own accord, and a welcome voice whispered in her ear. 

“I’ll sit in the back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude was annoying me in this scene and *I* wrote him, hahaha.
> 
> Originally I had Dimitri grab Byleth in the flashback, but even during the assault on the holy tomb he (gently) pushed her aside before going HAM and snappin' necks. He would never intentionally hurt her and I think that small action demonstrates the depth of his bond/respect for her, even during his darkest moments.
> 
> I'll be updating this fic once more today--happy holidays~~~  
> \--  
> Flashback scene inspired by the wonderful fan comic that ritos-i on tumblr made. Here's a link: https://ritos-i.tumblr.com/post/187585057290/comic-on-thoughts-about-what-dimitri-told-byleth


	6. You're Someone I Believe In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your Grace, may I have the pleasure of a dance?"
> 
> The three share tender moments under the stars.

“How do people live like this?” Claude breathed into a shiver.

Cozied up under blankets together in front of a fire is the perfect way to spend the long, cold winter nights at Garreg Mach, and the perfect way to end their third day together after long hours of negotiation.

Byleth rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

"Whenever you visit, keep in mind Faerghus is three times as cold," Dimitri stated. 

Claude made a face. “I'm rethinking all my life choices.”

While Claude had opted for extra layers, Dimitri was comically underdressed in nothing but slacks and an undershirt, relishing the cool night air. This type of weather was mild and enjoyable to him. He’d even offered Claude his jacket, unprompted.

"He loves the cold almost as much as he loves me," Byleth whispered to Claude, and they shared a look.

The stew they’d let simmer for the past two hours was finally ready, a hearty, spicy dish of venison and vegetables thanks to Claude’s willingness to play chef. With generous measures of cloves, cardamom, cinnamon and nutmeg, the meal was perfectly warming.

Dimitri sighed in satisfaction after drinking the last of the broth. “That was excellent.”

“Yes, thank you for making dinner,” Byleth smiled, dipping from underneath the safety of the toasty blanket to taking their empty bowls and putting them on a tray to be collected later. 

“It doesn’t get _this_ cold where I live in Almyra, but... it helps,” Claude appraised of his work.

When she returned, Byleth pulled a flask from her jacket and took a drink before burrowing next to Claude and passing it along. “Faergus firewein. It’ll take the edge off.”

Claude followed her example, hissing after his sip. With a wincing grin he said, “That’s gonna put more hair on my chest.” 

Dimitri laughed and took a swig straight from the flask, entirely unfazed.

In comfortable, companionable silence, they passed it around until not a drop was left. The three of them were mesmerized by the flames in the fire pit, dancing with the gentle evening breeze. Warmed and emboldened by the liquor, Byleth nuzzled into Claude’s shoulder. She was rewarded with the barest hint of a kiss on her forehead and her chest swelled. She looked up to find him studying her carefully. This was not bad at all. 

A moment later a shadow obscures the fire. Dimitri stands before them both, nervously clearing his throat. Silhouetted by the crackling fire, he appears like some sort of god. He bows most regally, then asked:

“Your Grace, may I have the pleasure of a dance? I apologize for the lack of accompaniment.”

“How can I refuse a dance with the King?” she accepted, shivering as she slipped away from Claude and into the cold. 

“Archbishop, let me keep you warm on this chilly night,” Dimitri purred in her ear. 

With their bodies close and hands still clasped, Byleth leaned back to feign offense. “What an improper proposition,” she scoffed, turning her face away.

Dimitri bent forward in pursuit, whispering hotly, “If the King commands, his subject must obey...” 

Well, well, well. Wasn’t he being possessive tonight?

“The church is separate from the state, and as the figurehead of the church, I refuse.”

He feigned annoyance with a click of his tongue. She _loved_ it. 

Although there is no music, she’s completely enchanted with the dichotomy of his formal mannerisms and his quiet, commanding comments, his gentle touches. They swirl back and forth next to the fire thrice before they part.

“May I?” Claude smiled, braving the cold to offer her his hand. Of course, she accepts his invitation as well.

He can’t stop his teeth from chattering and she rubs her hands over his ribcage to try to warm him up. “You’re still cold? But you have so many clothes on…” she ends up laughing at how ridiculous he’s being and he joins her.

“I’m warm now,” he assures her, as he leads her in a freeform dance. It’s a nice excuse to be close to one another. 

“I’ve had a nice time since you’ve been here,” Byleth admitted, enjoying how close in height they were compared to herself and Dimitri. “I... wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’m happy you’re a part of our lives again.”

“High praise from her Grace,” Claude flashed a smile, then nuzzled close. Surprisingly he didn’t have many quips to make, instead savoring their time together. She appreciates it--she appreciates his sense of humor and chit-chat too, but… this feels genuine.

When their dance is over, Claude makes sure Byleth is comfortable and warm on the settee they’d shared before settling beside her again.

“Claude, may I?”

The Almyran King tried to hide his surprise but Byleth saw the spark in his eye.

“Certainly,” he answered with the utmost confidence, as if expecting the invitation all along. 

Dimitri gently tugged Claude to his feet, or tried, anyway--the force of his pull makes Claude tumble into Dimitri’s arms. They laugh. All Byleth can do is smile. 

Dimitri leads first, followed by Claude. She contemplates their height difference. Is this how she and Dimitri look to everyone else? 

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as they became focused on each other to the exclusion of everything else. Or was that the alcohol? More importantly, was she intruding?

They trade shy looks and small smiles, affectionate gestures. They’re so tender with one another. 

She holds her breath--she can feel the energy intensify between them as they bring their faces close together. Claude tips his head up and Dimitri dips--

The call of an owl interrupts the moment. Dimitri makes a bashful excuse and they part to return to Byleth. Dimitri swaddled himself under the covers with Byleth and Claude took the other chair. She drapes herself over his lap, too drunk to care about proper manners in front of their esteemed guest.

Suddenly as if possessed, Claude stood on his seat, throwing one leg over the back instead of using the chair like a normal human.

“ _What_ are you doing? Claude, don’t be ridiculous,” said an exasperated Byleth, her face peeking out of the covers.

“Tsk. I _am_ ridiculous,” he said under his breath, hopping over the back of the chair with no casualty taken. He returned from rooting through his pack with a book as large as her torso.

The title was in a script Byleth could not read.

“Children’s stories from my homeland. _Epic of the Almyran Kings.”_

Byleth rights herself upon his return. Affectionately Claude swats Dimitri to make room and unceremoniously dumped the large book in his lap. The embossed leather cover is well worn, but gold leaf still stuck to parts. Byleth glides her fingertips over the edge.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered.

“Isn’t it? It’s still my fave,” Claude beamed, sitting to the side quietly as his friends absorbed the lavish volume.

As the book was in a script they could not read, Claude summarized the stories of magical white wyverns choosing the first Almyran king, stories of war, stories of feasts, tales of romance and intrigue.

It contained page after page of colorful illustrations. This was a type of book most commoners would never be privileged enough to see. Byleth hadn’t seen a book with illustrations until she started at the Academy, and color was even more precious. This book was a treasure. And this was something Claude had owned since childhood? Hmm.

“Which tale is your favorite?” Dimitri asked, distracting Byleth from making a query. He was enraptured by the book as Byleth was.

Claude flipped to a story near the end of the book. The book falls open to the proper page easily--it’s obvious he has read this tale hundreds of times. A pale girl with long brown hair and piercing blue eyes is crossing swords with an equally handsome dark-skinned young man with black hair and dark eyes, both figures are outlined with gold. Flowers and other decorative patterns made up the background.

“It’s a story about the crown prince, who ran away from home to see the world,” he began to summarize, gesturing to the accompanying illustrations. “He meets a princess from a land far to the west, and is captivated by her strength.”

“They forge a friendship but when her family finds out she was spending time with an Almyran man they are forced to part ways. She cuts her hair to disguise herself as a boy and sneaks into Almyra. She fights her way to the capital to earn his heart. She wins it, of course,” Claude said proudly. 

“That’s refreshingly romantic,” Byleth appraised, taking in the triumphant illustration on the last page. “Interesting that it focused on the foreign princess more than the future king, though. Not that I mind, she’s a wonderful character.” 

“Yeah, my mom’s pretty great.”

Byleth made a squawk of surprise. Dimitri picked up the slack, asking, “Your mother…? This is not a fable?”

“I had to wait for the old man to give up the throne. Why do you think it took so long for me to find my way back to you?” Claude addressed them plainly, exasperated. 

Byleth stared at Claude, then to the equally-incredulous Dimitri, then back to Claude. 

“We never knew!” she whispered, her childlike eyes even more impossibly large.

Claude seemed unfazed by their astonishment. “Considering the political climate and how hated we are-- _were_ ,” he corrected himself with a pained grimace, rolling the past tense around uncomfortably. “There was never a good reason to reveal my identity at the Academy. Anyway, I’d better do something epic so they put me in the next edition,” he smirked. 

* * *

_A sea of empty tables had been set upon the lawn in front of the dorms. It was a time honored tradition to have an Academy-wide tea party within the first few weeks of class being in session. It encouraged the students to mingle, to make friends in other houses, which was the point of the Academy in the first place--to forge alliances here to treasure in your life going forward. At least, that was spiel Rhea had fed her._

_After the Archbishop made her encouraging announcement, the crowd dispersed and students paired off quickly. Her Blue Lions students had done a fairly good job of integrating with the other houses. As the crown prince of Faerghus, Dimitri had a cluster of his peers vying for a chance to chat one-on-one. He caught Byleth’s eye, blushed and looked away, sinking into his seat. The Imperial princess, Edelgard, had her own flock of admirers. Hubert repelled most of them._

_The sound of chatter reverberated between the walls of the classrooms and dorms as people paired up._

_She scanned the rest of the crowd, looking for the Alliance representative, Claude._

**_That boy…_ ** _Sothis’ voice stopped her from taking a step forward. Byleth’s eyes swung in the direction Sothis pointed them and landed on a familiar figure._ **_He is a curious one,_ ** _the girl inside her head continued narrating._

_Everyone had found a partner, but it appeared that the Golden Deer house leader had been passed over. Had the staff miscalculated? No, there was a table of three on the far end, and a few more trios scattered here and there. A horrible feeling blossomed in Byleth’s stomach. Students seemed to be purposefully avoiding Claude. Why?_

_She walked right up to him._

_“Claude,” she addressed him simply._

_The disappointment in his vivid eyes at being left out was replaced by a flash of genuine surprise, then disappeared entirely as his usual facade of friendly coolness reappeared—but with a blush. He had been caught in melancholy._

_“Ah, Teach,” he smiled but for the first time she could see how **fake** it was. _

_“I’d love to have tea with you,” she invited._

_“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve--”_

_She listened to his excuse play out but didn’t have the confidence or ability to articulate that she could see right through him. He was very obviously hurt that he’d been excluded. Byleth conceded and gave him space. No one wanted to be selected out of pity._

_“I appreciate you, Teach,” he said genuinely, flashing a sad smile before slipped upstairs to his quarters to read some book he’d mentioned. She sensed loneliness within him._

_Byleth’s chest hurt. He was such a bright personality around the academy, confident and curious, always pleasant if not persistent. Something like this had made him crumble? Why?_

_She must find out._

_And so she decided she would rewind time. Was this a grievous misuse of the power that Sothis had granted her?_

**_Foolish child! I wouldn’t give it to you if I didn’t want you to use it._ **

_That eye-sucking, brain winding feeling was something she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to._

_During her second attempt she drew too close to Dimitri’s orbit. The prince had no hesitation in extending an invitation, complete with a bow. She accepted graciously--she couldn’t dash the joy from that handsome face, and his undivided attention was immeasurably flattering._

_Dimitri was sweet and genuine, eager to learn more about Byleth. Their hands bumped and his cheeks turned pink. She could probably waste a good amount of her life watching this cute young man blush and stammer at her in all his earnestness, but from the corner of her eye she caught Claude being excluded again. The situation played out in a slightly different way but the result was still his retreat._

_So she felt the need to rewind immediately--but not before saying something sweet and overly familiar that flustered Dimitri so deeply he turned beet red. Sothis cackled with approval._

_The third attempt, Sylvain roped her in. Goddess, he was charming. Praise spilled from his perfect lips like flower petals on a spring breeze. Alas, he took one too many lingering glances at her chest and she was not in the mood to be treated like meat. Rewind._

_Every time put someone different in her path, and took someone else away._

_Dedue invited her and she gratefully accepted. She mentioned seeing him in the greenhouse, and the reserved retainer began talking excitedly about the flowers he was attempting to cultivate, in that sweet, quiet manner of his. Byleth was smitten._

_An insidious pattern became apparent. Anyone who was not pale was passed over or made a second (or third, or lower) choice._

_The mercenary world cared not about outward appearances or your background as long as the job was done. She knew this world of nobles valued crests and bloodlines to a ridiculous degree, but to see another layer of discrimination added on top of that was absolutely maddening. Dedue was a crown prince’s vassal. Claude was a noble. Petra was as highly ranked as Edelgard, but from a country outside of Fódlan, so it didn’t count? Byleth was baffled by all of this._

_Various other obstacles popped up during the last handful of tries--the cookies Mercedes had baked to share with her tea party partners had been very, very good, and it was regrettable that she had to give those up--but finally, she found her solution:_

_As soon as Lady Rhea began to speak, Byleth wove across the lawn to close the distance, avoiding those who had previously distracted her from Claude._

_It stung more than she’d anticipated to avoid Dimitri when she could feel his intent gaze on her, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made. She would make sure to ask him for tea some other time; she was certain he would be just as pleasant of a conversationalist in the future as well._

_At Claude’s back, Byleth slipped her hand into the bend of his arm with plenty of time to spare before Lady Rhea finished and the crowd sorted itself into pairs._

_“Ah, Teach! You, me, tea?” Claude asked with a cheeky side glance. He acted as if he had been expecting her, as if this had been his plan all along. Interesting._

_“I would enjoy that,” she accepted. The smile he returned was sincere. Byleth was pleased._

**_My, my, he is quick to pivot_ ** _, Sothis piped up as the two sat down._ **_We should be careful, but maybe he could be useful to us?_ **

_Though she was pitiful at maintaining conversation, Claude’s easy manner set her at ease._

_Claude didn’t make her feel like the kind of commodity like Sylvain had. However, it was obvious he was trying to glean as much information from her as possible, to which Byleth more or less held guard._

_He was also very guarded, despite his outwardly personable nature. Flashes of a deeper layer intrigued her. Who was he really?_

_The intention of the tea party was to swap partners at appointed intervals; a few approached Byleth, but she rejected them all. She knew how this turned out for Claude if she abandoned him._

_Byleth noted that not one person interrupted to invite Claude._

_She still didn’t understand why. As the hour wore on and the supply of tea dwindled, they found more things in common to discuss._

_His perspectives were refreshing, he was funny and gracious, he was as handsome as Dimitri._

_A snippet of a conversation she’d overheard earlier floated through her head:_ **_It’s foolish to put trust in an outsider._ **

_These Fódlan lordlings were so petty. Trust was one thing, but they weren’t giving their peers a chance at all. The deck was stacked against these kids from the start._

_“You still with me?” Claude waved, trying to prompt her back into conversation._

_“Ah, sorry.” She felt a blush burn her cheeks. “You enjoy chess, don’t you Claude?” Byleth asked, already knowing the answer. “I wouldn’t be opposed to a match or two.”_

_This guy was the master of micro-expressions. Her invitation had taken him by surprise, but he was pleased. His detached mask of bemusement slipped back on so quickly._

_“I’m always up for a game of chess, especially with a tactician such as yourself. But you sure you have time to spare?”_

_If she was being honest, she didn’t. Class certification exams didn’t grade themselves._

_Byleth shook her head. “I’ll make time. I’d like to chat with you more.”_

_They agreed to meet under the gazebo after classes let out the next day for chess and conversation._

_The blossoming friendship did not go unnoticed by a certain crown prince._

* * *

As the embers died to a glow, they decided to turn in for the night, parting at her apartment doors as they had for the past few evenings. They gave small hugs of parting affections, but as he walked away, something made Byleth pause.

“No. Come to bed with us,” she said urgently, offering her hand as he pivoted back to them.

Dimitri gave her a curious look; surprised but not displeased.

“Sure.” Claude entwined his fingers with hers. He didn’t bother playing the will-he-won’t-he, refusal-of-invitation game, and his sureness pleased Byleth. 

As a couple they usually sleep in the nude, but for their first time in mixed company… it’s pajama time. Dimitri offers the warmest pair of pajamas he has and Claude accepts although they are far too long. He rolls up the legs and sleeves. Byleth thought he looked adorable and tossed him a pair of wool socks. 

Dimitri opts for pajama bottoms only, Byleth changes into a silk nightgown--and she is not unaware of the looks both men give her but says nothing. After all, she’s doing her own ogling.

The bed is a tad small for three, but Byleth and Dimitri are happy to snuggle their guest, and tuck Claude under the thick pile of blankets, piling a few on top for extra insurance.

“Is this satisfactory?” Dimitri asked from the opposite side of the bed.

“Mmhmm! Toasty.”

She wiggled close and Byleth slipped her hand under his shirt, coming to rest on his heart. His chest is strong, as is his heartbeat. Momentarily forgetting that he is not Dimitri, her absent mind swirls through his chest hair and she begins to tweak a nipple.

“Uh…. By?” 

“Mmm?”

“You’re uh...” Claude cleared his throat, catching her wrist. “I don’t _exactly_ mind but--”

“O-oh!”

Thoroughly embarrassed, Byleth tried to withdraw. Instead Claude put her hand on his stomach, patting it in place. She idly strummed his abdomen instead.

Peeping “goodnight” at each other, Byleth starts to drift to sleep. Her last thought is the sad realization that tomorrow would be their last day together for Goddess knew how many moons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoyed all the updates on this fic today. 
> 
> Gin & tonics with fresh sliced strawberries sponsored the editing of this chapter. 👌👌👌
> 
> I loved writing the flashback scene--while of course this did not happen in the game, I like to think of alternate uses for Byleth's ability. I thought an academy-wide tea party was a fitting mixer for students to meet one another. 
> 
> Updates on this fic will come slowly while I travel back to the US for new years weekend, work on art and an update for my other fic. Thanks for your support and your patience. 🙏🏻


	7. Let’s Stop Running From Us

While Byleth didn’t want to be burdened with meetings during Claude’s final day at the monastery, Seteth had been sure to make sure she didn’t shirk any of her responsibilities. A thick folder of decrees and letters from other branches of the church awaited her reply this afternoon.

Between paperwork, she steals glances and tidbits of their conversations. They’d been playing various board games all afternoon, and now it was time for chess. The Almyran leader is very focused on Dimitri, and she can tell her husband is finally comfortable, even playful. 

Dimitri still had not been forthcoming about the circumstances of their past relationship, but to see him smile so brightly was a gift of its own.

The short, dark days of winter moons always saw him tipping into a depressed state. Maybe with Claude’s sunny influence this winter would be mild. 

Just a week ago she would’ve rejected that notion entirely. 

Her king caught her gaze and called out to her. She’d been staring as she let her thoughts wander to more intimate places, and her core was hot. 

“Sorry?”

“Join us?”

She toddled over, Byleth curled close to Dimitri’s lap. A chess set was open on the narrow marble table between them. Bottles of wine left over from the ball had been pulled out. She lifted an empty one. “You’re already a bottle deep, huh?” 

Claude had a cup at the ready, filled with the perfect pour. He swirled it enticingly; with the smile he flashed, she was unable to refuse. “Time to play catch up,” he said.

“Should you be drinking, my beloved? You have a flush,” Dimitri worried, raising the back of one hand to her forehead.

Byleth leaned into his touch, then dipped to kiss him sweetly where his eyepatch met his cheekbone. “I’m fine, my love.” She could feel Claude’s analyzing gaze.

She watched as they set the board and began their game. She knew both men well enough to predict most of their moves, and could already see that Dimitri was backing himself into a corner. Anxiety was flowing from her husband in waves, and she patted his forearm.

The Almyran king was wiping Dimitri from the board with no issue whatsoever. She wasn’t going to let that stand in her house, no matter how much she liked the guy.

She asked the room, “Mind if I tag in?”

“That’s not fair, Teach.” Claude winked. Dimitri accepted with a resigned nod.

Byleth flashed their opponent a satisfied smirk. “War is a team effort.”

She watched and advised with whispers when he seemed too trapped, finally ending in a stalemate. It was obvious that Dimitri was still frustrated, but Claude seemed satisfied. 

“You’re sulking,” Byleth pressed her face close, staring at her husband with a ridiculous look until he cracked a smile, then she kissed him. “No sulking.”

“Perhaps a little,” Dimitri smiled shyly as he retreated, resetting the board. Claude refilled their wine cups. “Will you give me the pleasure of a rematch?”

“Sure. I call dibs on Teach’s help this time.”

Dimitri huffed. Byleth merely laughed and kissed his cheek. The situation reminded her of their academy days. Goddess help me wrangle these awkward children and variations thereof had been common thoughts. The more things change, the more they stay the same. 

Byleth thought about the request. “Mmm. I can only offer moral support.” 

“I accept.” 

Byleth gave Dimitri’s arm a squeeze then pitter-pattered from one settee to the other to curl up beside Claude. She was curious how this match would unfold, but the wine had her more curious to know what was in the cologne he was wearing. She invoked the name of the Goddess for a second time that day.

Dimitri was doing better this round. Good. Truthfully he hadn’t done badly in the last match at all, but against Claude almost anyone would have done less than perfect.

“More wine? More wine.” Byleth was refilling with heavy pours but no one complained.

It had obviously bruised Dimitri’s ego ever-so-slightly that he hadn’t completely crushed Claude, but it was nice to exist in this new world where they didn’t need to keep those skills quite so sharply honed.

Claude was pensively considering where to move a pawn. She was deep enough in her cups that tucking a lock of hair behind his ear didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary. “Your hair is so long now,” she commented.

“Is this the moral support you promised?” Claude slipped her the slyest of smiles, taking his attention from the chess board for barely a second. 

Oh. Shit. Oops. She retreated, her face burning. A blush crested Dimitri’s high cheekbones but as soon as their gaze met, he looked away and said nothing. A terrible feeling rose up in Byleth’s stomach. 

“If it’s not working, I’ll stop,” she tried to play it off as a joke, attempting to catch Dimitri’s eye once again. He was very focused on the board and she wasn’t sure how to interpret his response at all. 

Claude cleared a piece dismissively. “Eh, seems like its working.”

Feeling self conscious, Byleth was able to stay her idle hands for only a few moments before her drunk brain took over. Her fingers wandered back and fashioned a braid like the one he used to wear when he was a student; after that a few more braids appeared along the nape of his neck. Satisfied, she snuggled against his shoulder and focused on the rest of the game. A blush had crept over him. She liked it.

“Even with Teach on my side I couldn’t win?” He feigned annoyance when the game concluded, reclining with his arms behind his head.

With mild surprise, Byleth sunk comfortably against his side. He was warm and that spicy lavender scent was so enticing. Yikes. How much had she had to drink, really? They’d drained at least three bottles of wine, maybe four?

Dimitri was meticulously putting the game away, a satisfied smile on his face. 

“Mitya, come here,” she beckoned, offering her hand. “You’re too far away and you need a victory kiss.” 

“If you must,” he mock-complained. They made enough room on the settee so Dimitri could squeeze beside her. Byleth smoothed his pale hair from his face and pulled him into the kiss. He tasted like wine and was far more enthusiastic than she’d expected. A delightful frisson tingled up her spine and down her thighs. She hummed. Byleth loved him with all her heart.

“Victory kisses?” Claude said with a tinge of jealousy, “must be a Fódlan thing--”

“No, it’s an ‘us’ thing,” Dimitri corrected, grasping Claude by the back of the neck. There was little hesitation between the former lovers as their lips met hungrily.

Claude’s reached for Dimitri’s heart, fingers splaying over his strong chest. They played a sweet game, their faces tilting close, then shying away just enough to lure the other back, threads tugging between them. Claude’s mouth dropped to Dimitri’s throat, eliciting a heavy moan from her king.

Every gaze and brush and sound they made only fed Byleth’s heady lust. 

It was a sound that she always enjoyed coaxing from Dimitri, and to watch a beautiful man they both admired plying it from him, well--

“Always staring,” Claude gave her a gentle scolding. He nuzzled his nose against Dimitri’s cheek and watched Byleth intensely. 

“My beloved,” Dimitri breathed, a dark look in his eye. 

They looked like beasts ready to pounce, and she was their prey.

Oh, how delicious it was to be devoured.

* * *

Byleth awoke to someone exhaling hotly in her ear. A chill prickled across her back as that someone peeled away. She groaned at the dull thud in her skull; the amount of wine she’d consumed last night had not been wise. Pale eyelashes fluttered open against the multicolored light that filtered through the windows. Her linen shirt and brassiere were missing, and judging by the gentle bite and scratch marks littered across each of their torsos, they’d had a grand time. 

“Good morning,” she rasped. Dimitri was littering kisses all over Claude’s chest. She smirked, smoothing a hand down his back before joining in on spoiling their guest. 

This certainly wasn’t an unpleasant start to the day. 

What was unpleasant was their imminent return to the real world. This would be their final day together for some time. 

With Seteth’s help, a final draft of their proposal was drawn up later that morning, ready to be sent to parliament. They ate a light lunch, and that afternoon they had to say goodbye. Each of the three had to go back to their stations and their solitude. 

Dread fermented in her stomach as they walked to the top floor, her legs filled with lead as they went through the doors to the Star Terrace. Dimitri’s bronze wyvern and Claude’s albino one chittered and chuffed at each other as they waited for their riders. 

“Thank you. Please, if we could have a moment,” Dimitri dismissed their attendants.

The three were alone. Standing between both kings, Byleth hooked her arms around their waists to pull them close. She was almost able to keep it together, but Dimitri started to cry in that soft, heaving way he often did and she absolutely lost it. 

Claude sounded exasperated. “C’mon you two, you’re gonna make me--”

Byleth looked up to catch Claude’s wistful look, thick eyelashes dampened by his own tears. She kissed one corner of his mouth and Dimitri kissed his eyelid. 

The gesture made Claude laugh, though the sound was bittersweet. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

The Almyran king took his time in kissing them. Byleth had to unclench her fingers from his silk sleeve, and offered a quiet apology. Claude caught her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“I’ll send letters as soon as I’m home,” he promised, then tiptoed to take a final kiss from Dimitri.

They watched him fly off in a flourish, his wyvern calling back to Dimitri’s as it sped eastward. Within minutes the white wyvern was merely a dot in the sky.

Oh. He was gone so quickly.

She felt her chest constrict. Not only had a treasured friend and new lover left, today she’d have to deal with her husband’s departure as well. 

“I wish you could stay.”

It was the same thing she said to Dimitri every time he left. Byleth openly sobbed against Dimitri’s chest, clinging to him like a child.

“This was the most time we’ve had together since the war,” she hiccuped between sobs, looking up at him with bleary eyes. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

“Neither am I, my beloved,” Dimitri breathed, folding his arms around her tiny body. He shook with sobs, silent tears dropping hotly on the top of her head. She held him until his breathing stopped hitching.

He was always like this when they parted. The tender display of affection made her melt. She coaxed him down so they were eye to eye. Though she was upset, she would be the strong one when they needed. “I love you, with every breath I take.”

She watched his wyvern until it too was but a dot on the horizon, and let herself cry. 

Byleth returned to her quarters in a daze. There was a letter on her desk, neatly folded into thirds; Dimitri always left one for her. Her tears stained the parchment as she read it. The eloquently written letter was affirmation of his undying bond with her, and a small thank you for welcoming Claude into their lives.

She found an unexpected letter on her vanity table, folded into quarters.

It was from Claude. The contents were honeyed, expressing how he wanted to hold their hearts close. How he looked forward to the next time they would be together, how he looked forward to seeing their love grow. 

Byleth penned impassioned responses right away, dropping them with an attendant before returning to her life of religious duty. The afternoon prayer beckoned as it always did.


	8. Let's Fall In Love For The Night

The first stages of the treaty the Archbishop and the two Kings had drawn up had begun to be enacted in the moon that followed their meeting. Peace corps from both sides would be deployed along Fódlan’s Throat to mediate. 

The road to rectifying things with Duscur had been entirely different. It had been the people of Fódlan who had to change their rotten attitudes, and though there had been conflict, the people of Duscur were never at fault. Dedue’s calming presence as a mediator was the real reason for their success.

In this situation, each side held resentment and fear of the other. For the first couple years of her role as Archbishop, the weekly reports delivered to Byleth’s desk had been a pretty constant stream of awful news. It made her wonder how long Rhea had conveniently ignored this terrible truth, and why she had let the situation happen in the first place.

The mountainous region of Fódlan’s Throat is difficult. People on both sides of the mountain range are tough and spirited, the result of generations of living in such unforgiving conditions. 

By moon’s end it seemed the villages closest to the proposed trade routes and main thoroughfares are most amicable to the treaty and the improvements to their lives, but those who live far from either are still fiercely independent.

It will take time and patience to convince these people they aren’t losing anything, and instead will glean the benefits of open trade. Sometimes it works, sometimes it leads to skirmishes. 

Merely two weeks after they started the plan it was decided that Dimitri, Byleth and Claude would do a meet at an Almyran township near Fódlan’s Throat at moon’s end. Things were going sour and public appearances were always good for morale. It soon became apparent that Dimitri was too crushed by dealing with politicians in Fhirdiad to be able to join her on such short notice; Byleth would have to make an appearance on behalf of them both. 

Of course she would do what she must for the sake of Fódlan, but this turn of events was not pleasing. She penned a letter to Dimitri immediately.

A response came early the next morning, the day she was due to leave. 

_My Beloved,_

_Once again I send my apologies that I cannot be by your side—the first session of parliament convenes imminently, political tensions are higher than expected and I feel I must be present. I appreciate everything you do for us and for Fódlan._

_I am sure the Almyran king will be glad to see you. Strengthening our political and social bonds is critical for the alliance being forged. Please be receptive. We are doing everything to ensure your comfort during this demanding meeting._

_I miss you dearly. The end of the next moon cannot come quickly enough._

_Yours forever & always, _

_Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd_

Oof, she’d made him feel guilty. She was glad to learn they had also been writing letters, but it was a mite unpleasant to learn _she_ had been the subject. It was also weird to dance around their relationship so formally, but that couldn’t be helped. She wrote a sweet, short note to comfort him and finished packing for her trip. 

Done up in her finery, she was accompanied by a handful of Knights of Serios. Eastward they flew, stopping to break for an early lunch in Gloucester territory, and a pleasant albeit brief teatime with Lorenz, before continuing onto the impossible peaks of Fódlan’s Throat. 

The mountains here made the range that Garreg Mach was tucked into look like a bunch of dusty hills, and the strength of the wind current tossed their flock of wyverns back and forth like a cat with a mouse. They made it shortly before the appointed time, windblown but no worse for wear.

“Welcome. The King is waiting for you,” an Alymran attendant addressed their group after Byleth dismounted. 

She followed the finely clad woman and stepped inside the tent, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim light. The King turned with practiced ease at the sound of her bootsteps. His lean face took on a spark upon seeing she’d arrived.

Claude was annoyingly handsome, and she was beyond happy to see him.

“Your Grace,” he said with a smirk, offering a bow. 

Byleth returned the gesture. “Your Majesty.”

She desperately wanted to embrace him, bury her face into his neck, steal a kiss. With attendants in tow, there would be no such contact. 

Instead, Byleth smiled wistfully, fulfilling her role. “I appreciate seeing you here. I suppose it’s time to get to work.”

“Work? In _my_ Almyra?” Claude laughed and offered his arm. “Time to break bread, pour wine and make friends.” 

She’d been so touch-starved for the past couple of moons that even this restrained contact excited her. She leaned against him as much as was proper in polite company. He flashed a knowing glance. That was enough to set her at ease but also ablaze.

Damn him. 

They stroll from the tent through the forest to the edge of the city, guards watching at a safe distance around them. Freshly fallen snow crunches softly under their boots. 

A pine with needles more blue than the others catches Byleth’s eye. “Ah, what a pretty tree.”

Claude snaps a tender sprig from a low hanging branch and huffed it, humming, before passing it to Byleth to do the same.

It was sticky with sap. “Smells like your favorite tea,” she remarked.

“One and the same,” Claude confirmed. “They’re rare at this elevation, they usually grow much higher.” 

“Do you have to process it?”

“Nah, we could drink it now if we had hot water,” Claude carefully selected a few more sprigs and pocketed them. “Let’s try it later.”

The heads of villages from all over the region had been gathered in this small city. Everything is quite casual compared to the pomp and circumstance of Fódlan; it’s refreshing to Byleth. The people love their King; one sweet child with wide eyes asks if Byleth is his queen and his mother has to correct him.

She was surprised to see that even though the people here were fiercely allegiant to one country or the other, they didn’t especially resemble those from either country. They had hair colors and textures of all types, builds that varied widely, easy smiles and friendly dispositions. It was only when you mentioned _the other,_ things would get tense. 

They have dinner with the townsfolk. The feast is lavish; they are in Almyra, after all. Rich, hearty dishes full of flavor come one after another, washed down by wines robust enough to stand up to the melody of spice.

Seated next to Claude, her instinct is to reach for his hand, or squeeze his thigh under the table. Of course, they must remain overly chaste in public. The lack of contact is killing her. She’s never been in a position where she can’t just… do as she likes with the person she’s enamored with. It is a constant battle of discretion, and the enemy is herself. 

Toward the end of the night they are urged to dance together as a sign of burgeoning peace between both countries. Claude leads her to the dancefloor. The touch between their bare hands is electric. 

As he pulls her close he gazes at her through his thick lashes, then leaned in to whisper, “Reject me.”

“...What?”

She had not been made aware there was an additional public display requirement to the dance until this very moment, and her nerves started to rattle.

“Reject me,” he repeated. “Five times.” 

“ _Five_?” Byleth harshly whispered back, staring at his shoulder in complete shock.

Claude grimaced, turning it into a smile as he surveyed the room. “Yeah. Sorry,” he said through his teeth. “You’ll do great.”

Byleth was still unsure how to reject him properly, and simply dropped his hand, pivoting away from Claude.

The crowd cheered, and the music escalated.

Claude played up his role, looking utterly dejected. When he approached her for another turn, he swept onto one knee, his fingers outstretched desperately, dramatically. Byleth turned her nose up at him and brushed his outstretched hand aside like he was nothing to her. This was fun!

With each rejection building on the last, the crowd grew more and more fevered, the roar escalating each time she tosses his hand away. After the customary number of refusals, she accepts Claude as her dance partner and the onlookers howled in delight. The small dance floor soon filled. 

“You did great,” he praised once she was in his arms again, and she perked up. 

“A warning would have been nice,” Byleth said with mild exasperation, though her bright smile revealed her true feelings. Almyra was fun.

Claude leaned into his charm for the rest of the evening, and she became smitten all over again. He leads her in other dances but she notices he is a gracious king--he dances with anyone who asks, and following his lead, so does she. The people here are warm and kind, just like their leader.

Her heart is overflowing with emotion for this man despite their years apart. 

It isn’t until midnight the party begins to mellow out--children are toted off to bed, and the King and the Archbishop are to make their official departure from the feast. Beyond a curt goodnight, there is no chance to say anything, as they are escorted to separate quarters by their respective entourages.

Byleth is alone. The room would be described as cozy and welcoming by most anyone else. Every accommodation has been made for her comfort--thick fur blankets are piled high on the bed, a tin of her favorite tea is waiting for her, a small basket of exotic fruits from warmer climes, the fire roars hot, but it feels... vacant.

All her finery is discarded; she is glad to be rid of it, and out of her dress boots, made too tight after a long day of standing and chatting and an even longer night of dancing. She donned the wool socks and silk nightgown she’d packed, and plopped on the edge of the bed. Her eyes drifted to the crackling fire that had been prepared for her, and her thoughts drifted.

She wished Dimitri were by her side, aching for his embrace and gentle affection. She wished she and Claude didn’t have to spend the night apart. She wondered how often Rhea felt this deep isolation--surrounded by others, but no one actually by their side.

“Hopefully it won’t be for much longer,” she said to no one, and approached the handbasin to finish her bedtime routine.

She crawled into the bed with a sigh. Exhaustion made her bones ache but endless thoughts raced through her mind. She wondered if Dimitri was eating enough, which led to worry about him not sleeping enough. How was Claude sleeping lately? He seemed well, but... 

Dozens of anxious thoughts swirled in her brain until there was nothing left to think about. 

Just as sleep had decided to claim her, Byleth heard a scuffle at the windowsill. Her skin prickled. She reached from the safety of the warm duvet to take up her dagger where she’d left it on the bedside table. Still sheathed, she clutches it to her chest.

From where the bed she cannot see who is there, only that there _is_ someone, thanks to a silhouette obstructing the pale moon’s glow. 

The window frame rattles and starts--this assassin isn’t very sneaky or smooth. Finally, it opens an inch or two and gets jammed.

“...It’s me. Window’s stuck, give me a hand?”

The voice that harshed through the gap was familiar. Her prickling terror turned to annoyance. Giddy, giddy annoyance. She left the warm furs and dagger behind to help her husband’s whipsmart but somehow still dumb boyfriend into the room.

...She supposed he was _her_ dumb boyfriend, too.

Byleth opened the window with ease, and Claude stole a sloppy kiss as he hopped past the thick drapes, tracking snow onto the ornate rug. She shut it as quickly and quietly as she could behind him, pulling the curtains tightly shut.

“I don’t want to do this separate room garbage,” Claude announced with a dismissive wave.

“You’re too risky,” Byleth scolded, but she had a hard time hiding her excitement. She pressed her body to his, cold be damned; the silk shift she wore offered no protection from the icy gust he’d let in or the chill that clung to his clothing.

“It’s only a problem if you get caught,” he winked. He tossed aside his cold leather gloves, and tried warming her arms with his bare hands. 

Byleth squeaked and wrestled away from his cold fingertips, laughing lightly. ”That isn’t any better!”

Claude cackled in delight. “Anyway. Hi,” he stole another kiss. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Let’s sit by the fire.”

He kicked off his boots and threw aside his fur-lined jacket, focused on stoking the dying fire back to life. Byleth grabbed a few pieces of firewood to help in the effort.

“I’m happy you’re here,” she said as she laid one of the pieces on the glowing ash. “Even if you’re a fool.”

“Is that a confession?” Claude slipped a hand to the small of her back, holding her close. He continued to coax the fire but was watching her out of the corner of his eye, mirth playing at the corner of his mouth. She loved when he looked at her like that.

Byleth dipped to lay another piece of wood to the growing, luminous pile. “Hmm. You’re not so bad to have around.”

“ _Not so bad_?” he crowed; Byleth shushed him. “I’ll keep it down, but really, ‘not so bad’? That’s all I get?”

* * *

_The belltower tolls. She stops in front of a particular shrubbery. A harsh whisper greets her._

_“Teach.”_

_Unmistakably Claude._

_With a watchful scan of the alley to make sure no eyes were on her, Byleth slipped backwards between the carefully manicured bush and the monastery wall, transported to a nook the size of a small closet. She turned and looked up; the person she was meeting had wedged between the narrow walls with his heels hooked on a protruding brick and his back flush against the wall. He deftly scrambled back down, landing light on his feet. With a smirk and a flourish, he bowed._

_“Are you a deer or a mountain goat?” Byleth teased, and pushed into his arms when he stood._

_They hadn’t yet kissed. It was a line that was too dangerous to cross. So they settled for a lot of yearning looks, holding hands, a very chaste closeness. Though they’d been talking about strategy and politics every day for weeks, these new secret meetings of theirs consisted of dumb gossip, jokes and sweet words._

_Byleth tested resting her head on his shoulder. He didn’t protest so she stayed that way. She thought idly about his elegant hands, gently grasping one and bending each finger tenderly. They were strong and calloused from plucking his bow._

_He watched her, bemused. “I’m glad you_ **_aren’t_ ** _a part of my house so we can spend time like this. But if I have to listen to Manuela go on a tangent about her love life in the middle of class again I might lose it.”_

_“Oh?” Something inside her impishly decided to kiss his knuckles._

_“Don’t do_ **_that_** _, Teach,” he huffed, looking away. Even in the shade she could see a blush spread across his fine features. It was so rare for her to be able to fluster him. It excited something inside her. Sothis’ gleeful cackle echoed in the back of her mind._

_Claude cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Who did you pick for the Heron Cup? Hilda volunteered to be our rep.”_

_“Hmmm. Do you want to guess? Should it be a surprise?”_

_He stared up at the small square of bright blue sky this tiny hideaway afforded, considering his options. She could gaze at his silhouette all day. “Eh, just tell me.”_

_“...Dimitri. He begged me not to, so... of course I made him do it,” she spilled, holding in her laughter with a devious little smile._

_Claude made some ridiculous noises to stifle his own laughter. “Oh, that’s gonna be good.”_

_“He’s so awkward when it comes to anything that isn't training or battle. Maybe he’ll learn to relax a little. He’s like a nervous puppy when I’m around.”_

_“I doubt it.” He exhaled tiredly in her hair. “He’s absolutely in love with you.”_

_“...No? What a weird thing to say.” Byleth pulled back, riding a wave of denial. “He’s just awkward--”_

_“C’mon, Teach.” Claude rolled his eyes, then took another look at her confused face. “Wait, you’re serious?”_

_She blinked at him vapidly. When he began to list the things Dimitri did in her presence--the lingering looks, the requests for extra one-on-one time at the training ground--it hit._

_“No, he’s a good student, that’s all--”_

_“Good students don’t tell their professor how mesmerizing their smile is.”_

_Her stare intensified, and then it all clicked into place. “_ **_Oh_** _. Oh no. Oh my Goddess.”_

_The bell tolled once--it was a quarter past the start of class, now. A loud and awful reminder she was cutting the lecture she was supposed to lead._

_The professor peeled away. “I’ve stayed far too long.”_

_“Dimitri’s penchant for strict rule-following is rubbing off on you I see,” he grumbled, playfully refusing to let go of her hand._

_Byleth tiptoed to be eye-to-eye with the Golden Deer house leader. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” she informed him. “I like_ **_you_ ** _, Claude von Riegan.”_

_Ah, shit. She fell back on her heels, and her stomach clenched--she hadn’t intended to reveal her feelings so plainly or so easily. By the enamored look that blossomed in those pretty eyes of his, there was no taking it back._

_Claude’s demeanor became entirely different. He unwove their fingers so he could press his lips to her ungloved palm._

_The sensation was electric._

_“Save me a dance during the ball,” he requested. When he looked at her so intensely, there was no way Byleth could refuse._

_“Of course.”_

_Claude gave her a sincere smile, triumphant at her reply. Seeing such a rare sight only intensified the affection she felt for him. “I look forward to it,” he said._

_Suddenly she wanted to stay in this chilly, dusty, leaf-strewn hidden space of theirs and see what it felt like to kiss this Claude von Riegan boy properly. She was in trouble._

_As a professor, it was in her best interest to end this too-close relationship. As a young adult feeling sparks of emotion and romantic attachment for the first time, she wanted to stay by his side._

_Byleth was in too deep._

_“I want to stay, but I really must go.”_

_“...I know. See you tonight,” he conceded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before he let go._

_Foot traffic was light. Most students would be in class by now, and this was generally a path less traveled. She used her best judgement, listening and watching for the right moment to slip back through onto the cobblestone path._

_“Bye,” she offered a small smile over her shoulder. He gave her a smirk and a sweeping wave._

_Ah, Safe. She brushed away cobwebs and a few tiny leaves that clung to her clothing._

_“Professor!”_

_Dimitri stormed around the corner. If she had taken a moment longer, he would have seen her emerge. He jogged to close the distance between them, unaware that Claude was hiding only a few feet away. A guilty blush made her cheeks feel like they were on fire._

_“Oh, Professor! I am so relieved,” he chattered at her, worry written all over his face. “Dedue and I have been searching for you. It’s so unlike you to be late for class. You’re flushed, are you feeling unwell? May I accompany you to the infirmary?”_

_“Dimitri, I’m fine, but thank you.” Byleth shook her head, trying to will her blush away. She didn’t doubt that Claude was dying with silent laughter behind the shrubbery at just how obvious Dimitri was, and how oblivious she’d been. Ugh._

_“....Ah, Professor.”_

_He looked uncomfortable. “Yes, Dimitri? Say what is on your mind.”_

_“It’s ah…” He clammed up, then without hesitation plucked something from her hair, handing it to her as if it were a thing she’d misplaced. It was a tiny leaf from the shrub._

_He apologized immediately for his overly-familiar behavior, turning beet red himself. Byleth couldn’t unsee that he did indeed have an attachment to her._

_Perhaps what was worse, she liked his attention as much as she liked Claude’s._

_Byleth took long strides toward their classroom. Dimitri followed her lead, and they soon found Dedue. “Let us return before Sylvain goads Felix into doing something rash,” she sighed._

* * *

“Sit, relax, I’ll take care of this,” Claude insisted. Once the fire was strong, he hung the poker and joined her.

Sitting by the fire had been thinly-veiled code for kissing by the fire, of course. Claude undid his hair and Byleth was grateful for it, delighted to run her fingers through his wavy, perfumed locks.

She discarded his sash, pulling his silk robe open. His undershirt was next to be undone, and she nuzzled his bare chest. His skin was practically pristine compared to all the scars that she and Dimitri had. The difference between warrior, merc and tactician, she supposed.

“Not being able to kiss you all day was agonizing,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his chest. His strong, steady heartbeat was so comforting. 

“That’s supposed to be my line.” Claude laughed. The sound rumbled deep in his chest. 

In his arms, Byleth felt at ease. She didn’t really mind his snappy demeanor, and would describe it as… charmingly irritating. It was a different feeling than being wrapped up in Dimitri. No better or worse, simply different.

It was easy to want him when he made her feel so special. One of his broad hands smoothed over her side, angling their bodies so they were hip to hip. 

Claude took his time in kissing her. “Fall in love with me,” he said. “Be _my_ queen.”

He was incredibly intense and sincere. If the circumstances had been different, she would have undoubtedly drowned in a pool of love for this man. Byleth let her lips flutter against the shell of his ear. “You work fast, huh.”

“You’re already in my territory. It would be easy to steal you away for a moon or three,” he breathed, heady with lust. She did not miss the change in his tone or the look in his eyes--his joke was a thin veneer laid over what he really wanted. It was dangerous and thrilling and she should not encourage him.

“You say that as if I have no husband or role to return to,” she scoffed, giving a nibble to his earlobe. He whined softly. 

“Dimitri is quite welcome in our tryst. The church stuff...eeh.”

She had to laugh a little. “I hope the three of us find time to be together again, I fear it will be difficult. Though… this is nice.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Claude answered in a sincere cadence, his fingers raking through her hair. 

Byleth’s mind wandered to her husband, wondering how he fared at this moment. “Dimitri is secretive about you, but I’m not sure why.”

“Secretive? Well,” Claude smiled fondly down at her, curling a finger against her cheek. She leaned into the touch. A pensive cloud loomed over him.

“Are you sure you’re ready to talk about this?” she prompted gently after he’d grown quiet.

He nodded, wistful though he was. “Yeah. I want you to know.”

“We dated for two moons before you arrived,” he began. “With the world the way it was, I knew it wouldn’t last, but I enjoyed what we had. I’ve never really stopped loving him, but you can’t be with someone who thinks love is only true between a man and a woman.”

The quiet anguish in his voice broke her. The thought of Dimitri closing his heart to her was agonizing; Dimitri and Claude had been so young, it had probably even more overwhelming. Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes again.

Dimitri had admitted to being unkind to Claude but this was far beyond what she’d imagined, especially as she knew Mitya still had feelings for the Almyran leader, even before he’d arrived back in their lives.

How did Claude even have the ability to forgive Dimitri for saying something so hateful? Did her beloved husband really believe that? 

“That’s awful,” she mewled, her fingers curling into his arms. “Why would he say something so cruel--”

Byleth was so distressed she couldn’t even finish her sentence, and began to cry. 

“Hey, hey, hey, none of that. I won’t allow it. You didn’t do anything.” 

His comfort only served to make her cry harder. Her own deep-seated guilt about their own past together bubbled up and now it was pouring out. “I really liked you, Claude. Despite that dumb letter I wrote, despite everything, I wanted you,” she proclaimed. 

He kissed her forehead, and she turned her face to rub away the tears that had wet her cheeks. When she met his eyes again, his smile was different. He seemed fascinated by her. 

“The timing wasn’t right, other things had to fall into place. But we’re here now. You’ve changed so much from when we first met, Teach,” he said appreciatively. 

She hiccuped a laugh through her tears, reaching up to run her fingers through the short, dense beard on his jawline. “That old nickname again?”

“The memories I have attached to that nickname are too sweet to let go, Byleth.” 

It disarmed her when he used her name. She made a soft noise of surprise when he kissed her, but found herself seeking him out when he withdrew. He littered kisses down her neck and over her chest, his hands possessively curling around her ribs.

Was this too good to be true? Byleth arched into him, tugging at his hair. Claude was proving to be less of a deer and more of a boar than the boar she’d married. No, he was very much a rutting stag.

“You’re relentless--” her breath caught as he mouthed the underside of one breast through the thin silk nightgown she wore. He hummed appreciatively at her appraisal.

Ah, but Byleth was no weak thing to be conquered. She bucked him onto his back, straddling his hips. Claude laughed with satisfaction; she’d literally played right into his lap. The feel of his erection made her entire body burn hot. Thank the Goddess there was fabric between them.

He curled up to meet her, kissing her chin. In that moment a quiet earnestness had taken hold of Claude.

“Look, I know we’ve been apart for a long time. But if you’ll let me pick up where we left off--” 

His eyes drifted from hers to stare at her shoulder for a lingering moment; was he nervous? When Claude tipped his face back up, his sea-green eyes held a deep vulnerability she’d never witnessed before. “I’d like to cherish you.”

The strength of his desire was potent. Her chest tightened. Did he really care for them? Was this merely a tryst designed to gain political advantage? She enjoyed his attention and so did her king, but--

“Oh Claude,” Byleth sighed, finally feeling the need to raise her concerns. “I want you. But are you sure you want me, or the _idea_ of me?”

Claude’s mouth twisted oddly. “I don’t want you to take any of this the wrong way, okay?” 

She paled at his disclaimer, but nodded for him to continue. She slid to his side, stroking his hair to let him know she was still listening.

“When we first met I did wonder how... useful you might prove. I was trying to sway you to lead our house so I could work with you,” he said. “But after a while I realized… I was hoping to sway you to be with me. I thought we had a chance for a little while.”

“I thought we did, too. You were my first kiss,” Byleth revealed.

“Wait, during the Ball?” Claude quickly recovered from any shock and seemed pleased with himself.

“When you confessed to me. Yes. In hindsight, I… I think that’s partly why I reacted so strongly.”

“The letter,” he put together, sounding mildly crestfallen. 

She pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth to soothe him. “Mmhmm. Anyway,” she urged, wanting him to continue. 

“Anyway… every time I reached out for help, you answered. Both of you. Time and circumstances change people, of course, but to me, it seems your heart is the same.”

That serious look had returned to Claude’s face and she felt like she might melt into a puddle.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she blushed and pawed at his chin, annoyed with her handsome companion.

He turned his face back to her, his gentle, serious gaze holding strong. “Like what?”

“Like you love me,” she huffed, teasing him. As soon as the words left her a tension filled the air. 

He did not deny it. Claude’s cheeks turned ruddy. “Byleth...”

She had been staring right through him until he called her name; he was obviously disheartened by her hesitation. It was like she had wrapped a silk scarf around his heart and had tugged it _just_ so.

...He _loved_ her?

Her off-the-cuff comment laid plain what they had been dancing around for moons. Byleth sat back over his hips and hummed, her emotions churning.

 _He_ loved _her_?

This was not a scheme. This was not a calculated move--she had caught him entirely off guard and was seeing _Claude_ for the very first time. He was not as quick to play his anxiety as Dimitri had been, but she could see in his eyes that if she took much longer to respond it would be easy to crush him.

...Did she love him too? Claude seemed to relax when she curled her fingers into his hair. He had not been coy about his feelings for her as soon as they’d reunited, though she had obviously misinterpreted his efforts. There was loyalty in his heart that desperately wanted to bloom, and Byleth could certainly appreciate that. 

“I care about you very much, Claude. Give me a little time to catch up.” Byleth whispered, studying him with a bashful smile.

Wordlessly, Claude coaxed her into a kiss. He tasted like years of yearning. She lost track of where his hands went but it didn’t matter. She wanted to be consumed by him.

“I want to see all of you,” she breathed when they parted. He hummed in agreement, she moved aside to access the laces on his pants. 

“Let me,” he replied, shedding his garments below the waist. Byleth reclined, taking in the sight of her lover. 

A glow from the fireplace played on the skin of her king. Her gaze travelled from his beautiful face to his bare chest peeking through his open shirt, over his strong torso, the crest of his hip, dipping between his muscular thighs. A smile spread across her face as he slowly worked himself to full attention. Yes, hers. She wasn’t sure she loved him, but she knew she would claim him. 

She peeled off her nightgown, tossing it aside. Her smallclothes were next. The room was warm but she still shivered with anticipation.

“Byleth,” he beckoned. Claude studied her with such _intent_. 

“I want to watch you,” she said, then gently encouraged his legs apart, her cheek pressed to his knee. She studied how he pleasured himself, the size and shape of him. She bit at the soft tender skin of his inner thigh, and raked the other, leaving red marks behind. His noises were delightful, and he didn’t take his eyes from her. Byleth smiled. 

“I want to watch you,” Claude said, his length twitching as he let go. She wanted badly to touch him and tongue the length of him, but when she reached between his legs, he shook his head. “You first,” he insisted, catching her in a kiss as they changed positions.

Her devious lover hadn’t let her touch him, but his mouth and hands were all over her body, tugging her closer and closer. He watched her caress herself for only a moment before he nuzzled between her legs, humming at the taste. His fingers curled into the underside of one thigh as he urged her to relax, eager to lap at the center of her. 

All pretense of concealing their time spent together had vanished. With her fingers tangled in his hair, she threw her head back and let out a low, throaty moan when the tip of his tongue connected with her clit. He abandoned pleasuring himself in favor of focusing on her entirely, grasping her small waist to keep her still. He pulled her closer and closer to the edge of pleasure, lapping diligently until she bucked against him, crying out sharply as her body tightened then released, every bone in her body feeling like it was made of lead.

Leaning his cheek against her thigh, Claude smirked and tickled her throbbing clit with his thumb. Byleth inhaled sharply--it was too much. “Enough, you devil,” she panted, rolling away. “It’s your turn now.”

Claude caught her in a kiss as they swapped positions again; she savored the taste of herself on his lips. This time they knelt facing one another, Byleth between his legs. He’d wilted a little while attending to her, but her warm hands made quick work of bringing him to full attention.

The Almyran King was perhaps _too_ good at sex, it was obvious he’d taken many lovers. Besides Dimitri, she’d been with a random merc when she was eighteen and drunk; she could only hope Claude would find her attention adequate. While she pondered this he cupped her breasts, squeezing and idly playing with her nipples. It was hard to focus on pleasing him when wouldn’t stop making her feel so good.

“Your body is perfect, Byleth,” he said, his breath hitching into a moan. He tucked his forehead against her collarbone and watched her stroke him.

His size and shape couldn’t be more different from Dimitri. He was curved and girthy while Mitya was lengthy, and his broad glans had more of a flair. She pulled his foreskin up, rolling it over the head while she pumped his length. He sighed prettily, pressing kisses to her throat while thrusting into her hands. When Byleth palmed over his glans, he shuddered and whispered sweetly in her ear, encouraging her to touch him however she wanted. Disentangling herself, she pressed her lips to his brow before she dipped between his thighs.

She wasted no time in tasting him, swirling her tongue over the hot, soft skin, and gave extra attention to lapping the small, sensitive spot at the underside of the head. She took as much of him as she could in her mouth and began to bob her head. She wanted to consume all of him, and be consumed in turn. Claude’s breathing grew strained and short; she knew he was close and wanted to bring him to finish. 

A gentle hand stayed her movements, and she brushed his length with her tongue as she retreated. 

Claude looked down at her reverently, stroking her cheek.

“I want to make love to you, Byleth,” he said with a heavy ache in his voice. It was the one thing they both knew they could never do. 

Wearing a bittersweet smile, Byleth tipped back and pulled him down with her, a bubbling laugh rising from them both. It did not take much coaxing before he finished on her stomach, his blue-green eyes locked on her face. Taking a moment to clean up, they indulged in kisses until they passed out in front of the fire.

* * *

Byleth stirred when the sun poked through the curtains, stinging her eyes. She found his jacket over her bare shoulders, but the man was nowhere to be found, and the spot in which he’d lain beside her was cold. 

Her stomach dropped. _That’s how it’s going to be, huh,_ she thought with a heavy sigh, burying her face in the crook of one arm.

“I’m here,” Claude called out quietly. Her eyes darted to find him half-clothed and curled up on the wide window sill, reading and nursing a glass of water. He hopped down to offer a sip. 

“Good morning,” he purred, stroking her hair as she took the glass. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.”

Surprisingly thoughtful. She drew his jacket around her shoulders and sat up to take a drink. And like that, the cup was empty. “How did you sleep?” she asked as he set the glass aside.

“Beside _you_? Like a king.”

Byleth didn’t know how to respond to his joke. Or was it a compliment? She didn’t have another moment to think because he kissed her with such _longing_.

Although there was a perfectly good table and chairs, they stayed in front of the fire, sharing tea and fruit to break their fast. 

“We’ve had our differences but I’m glad you always accepted me, for me.”

Her mouth twisted into a frown. “It’s hard not to like you, Claude.”

He was soft spoken and unguarded. “I’m too Almyran for Fódlans, and too Fódlan for Almyrans. Except you. You never seemed to judge me.”

“Oh I did. I judged you for being a pain in the ass.”

The quick, unexpected retort made him howl with laughter, and she clamped her small hands over his mouth for the umpteenth time this day. Unfortunately his laughter was infectious.

“I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. I don’t want to return to the monastery,” she admitted over the rim of her teacup.

“My kidnapping offer is still on the table,” he said with a wink. “I promise it’ll be a good time. We can swing by Faerghus to get Mitya, and I’ll ravish you both.”

“ _Claude_ ,” she said in a chastising tone, but set aside her teacup to kiss him. All the feelings she’d manifested for during her tenure at the academy had been stirred anew. The sly smiles he’d given her over the chessboard, the sweet notes he tucked under her door, the kiss he’d stolen during the night of the Garreg Mach ball that had left her breathless and wanting. 

The letter he’d saved for years, hoping to win her hand. It was utterly romantic.

“Let’s make love,” she harshed in his ear, against her better instincts.

“ _Now_?” Claude smiled against her neck, incredulous laughter in his voice. “We don’t have much time,” he said, but he was already sliding a hand between her thighs. She rocked her hips into the curl of his digits, ready for him to do as he pleased.

“ _Now,_ my king--”

Taken by surprise at the ferocity of her appetite, he uttered a small, delicious moan as he pressed two fingers into her. Byleth’s lips curled deviously as he stroked, her head rolling back into the furs. This man was utterly loyal to her and she would never make the mistake of letting him go again. 

“I love you, my queen,” Claude breathed hotly against her throat, finally putting words to the emotion she’d coaxed from him last night. 

Byleth met him eye to eye. She wanted to stay here and melt under him.

“Claude, I--”

A series of rapt knocks made Byleth yelp awkwardly.

“The procession is ready to leave at a moment’s notice, Your Grace,” the knight announced through the heavy wooden door. “As scheduled.”

She raised her voice so the sound would carry. “Y-yes, thank you! I’ll be out shortly.”

Claude winced sadly. “That’s my cue.”

And so they had to settle for kisses, stealing them one by one as Claude retreated to the windowsill, hastily dressing and collecting his belongings. The sun was coming up fast--his cover would surely be blown if he didn’t leave now. “Back the way I came, I guess. See you downstairs.”

After the confessions they’d laid bare, parting from Claude proved much harder than Byleth had anticipated. Their boundaries must be maintained, there would be no affectionate last goodbyes.

“We’ll reconvene in Garreg Mach at the end of the next moon,” Byleth simply said before they bowed to one another. The brief moments between them felt like minutes as she gazed at him, trying to memorize his fine features, burn them in place along with Dimitri’s. Like two magnets being drawn together, she could sense he didn’t want to look away, either. But Byleth was the first to break, and she told herself she couldn’t look back lest she began to cry. 

They ascended to the skies on wyvern back, one flock of wyverns heading southwest and the other to the southeast. Was thankful for this mode of transport--she was far enough away from her escorts to let tears roll down her cheeks freely. 

The journey felt so long; she had too much time to think and started analyzing everything Claude said to her; every word, every look, every touch. Had she admitted too much? Thinking about Claude’s tender confessions made her cry again. Dimitri had once confessed to her with much the same tone--her chest ached. They loved her. 

After many absent hours of travel, Garreg Mach rose on the horizon. In a daze, Byleth landed upon the Star Terrace and wandered inside. She wanted both kings and could think of little else. 

Before she disrobed, she idly reached into her coat pocket and yelped. Something pricked her finger. Thankfully her fingertips only bore small pink dots... and the strong scent of pine?

Goosebumps raised on her arms. Had he really...?

Byleth pulled a thick folded piece of parchment from her pocket. It fit in her palm neatly, tied with a thin cord and that sprig of pine they’d picked together. It had a curious weight to it.

“You cheeky dastard,” she said with warmth. 

Immediately she remembered Dedue’s tips for plant propagation and was smacked with anxiety. The sprig _had_ to live. The trimming found a new home in a teacup with fresh water, but she was uncertain if that would make it root. Either way, it’s good enough for now.

She sighed away some of her nerves and turned her attention to the carefully folded packet. Untucked one end, a measure of fine chain slithered onto the desk, joined by a round, pale gold filigree pendant with an unfamiliar motif--it must be Almyran. The gem that was embedded in the bail was exceptionally clear, and cut so cleanly it sparkled even in low lamplight. It was incredibly beautiful. This gift carried a hefty emotional burden that Byleth wasn’t sure she was able to reciprocate.

Byleth continued to unfold the parchment. 

_Turns out I’m too much of a coward to give this to you in person. Promise me you’ll keep it close to your heart and think of me once in a while?_

_I love you._

Byleth clutched the note to her chest and tried not to cry. By these words, he’d resigned himself to second place, but it wasn’t like that. One man was not more important than the other in her heart. One had simply gotten there first.

“I’m a coward too, Claude,” she said to herself, thumbing the written _I love you_ like she would his cheek had he been in front of her.

Such precious words were too scandalous for royalty to sign, but she’d keep the note forever, tucked away with all her letters from Dimitri. The thick stack of paperwork that taunted her was shoved aside in favor of a few sheets of fresh parchment. She spent her precious free time that evening writing letters to both of her lovers--one to Claude affirming her feelings for him, and one to Dimitri in which she questioned him about his past self’s poor behavior. Both men were incredibly dear to her. If she had to play mediator, she would do it. 


	9. Those Same Sad Eyes

The door to his office creaked open and Dimitri shuddered a frustrated sigh without looking up. 

“Felix, _let it go_. I will not discuss it further.”

The door clicked shut, and the deadbolt turned--and instantly Dimitri prickled like a wounded beast. _White hot panic_. A letter opener was the only thing he could use as a weapon. It may be a time of peace, but Dimitri would never lose his instinct for self-preservation. 

He swings his icy blue eye upward to the intruder, who has their hands held high.

Claude! There’s an apple in his mouth and a mischievous look in his eye.

“Oh. You!” Dimitri’s heart thudded in his chest, his stressed heartbeat having a hard time reconciling with his excited one. The letter opener was abandoned quietly without a second thought.

Unfazed, Claude crunched into the fruit. “Mmhmm. Me, in the flesh,” he said around a mouthful. Dimitri struggled to push to his feet, weak from neglecting to eat. “Nah, don’t get up.”

Claude settled on the right side of Dimitri’s large desk, crossing his legs at the ankle. A look of pitying appraisal crosses the Almyran king’s face and is gone just as quickly. “Damn Mitya, you look like shit. Eat,” a gloved hand offered the apple and Dimitri took it by reflex. 

“You sound like Byleth,” he said with bashful amusement, taking a bite. It had a satisfying texture, juicy and crisp, and he ate half before passing it back to Claude. “So tell me… why are you here?” 

“I got to see Byleth. It isn’t fair that you’re here alone. We missed you.” He crunched right back into the fruit.

“I’m not a lonely beast locked away in a castle,” the soft-spoken king ventured a smile. “But I missed being apart from you both,” Dimitri sighed, pressing his lips together grimly into a thin line. “Thank you for… keeping her company in my absence.”

The letter he’d received from Byleth just a few days ago was still a sore spot for him, and it was so recent that the emerald envelope bearing the crest of Seiros was prominently tucked among the paperwork that littered his desk.

“Of course. Happy to keep her happy.”

Well, at least they were all on the same page now. The guilt he held for the poor actions of his past self was tremendous. 

Claude pushed from his perch with ease and slipped his arms around Dimitri’s neck, burying his face into Dimitri’s hair. The touch made Dimitri melt--he had been moons without any affectionate contact.

“I _told_ you, I’ve forgiven you,” Claude said good-naturedly, taking a deep breath as he nuzzled closer. 

“How did you…?”

“I was sure she’d bring it up right away. You _are_ married, after all,” Claude answered, unfussed.

“Besides, you wear your emotions on your sleeve.” he said as he tipped back, utterly focused on Dimitri. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

Claude’s gaze was patient, adoring. This was a bit much for his weak heart. Part of him wanted to press into Claude’s chest and just exist for a moment, listening to his heartbeat, savor the scent of him. As it was, the other part wanted to make an escape. It just so happened he had the perfect excuse.

“I am sorry, Claude, but I have duties to attend to for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Of course,” Claude was not deterred, pressing his lips to Dimitri’s brow as if it were perfectly normal for him to drop into the office like this every day. “Meet you back here before dinner? I have a day _or_ two… if you’re amicable to that,” he dangled, mirth playing in his eyes. 

“...Oh! I--”

Dimitri cut himself off mid-sentence. He had such a hard time allowing himself any kindnesses, especially while he was here in Faerghus. It was easier to count down the days until he saw Byleth. But Claude’s friendly, expectant look was the push he needed.

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

* * *

Dinner had been lovely. Conversation came easily between the two, just as it had during Claude’s Garreg Mach visit. They ended up sipping on a dark, amber-colored honey wine Dimitri had been saving for a treasured guest. The wildflower-scented mead was quite a bit stronger than Dimitri remembered. Perfect, just what he needed. 

Claude’s hand was warm in his as they moved from the parlor to the bedroom chamber. Broad and calloused, it was not as small as Byleth’s, but… he liked it. 

“Is it okay if we just...?”

His brain wouldn’t finish the sentence but Dimitri plodded forward anyway, as if staying in motion would help him find his words. Claude tugged him to a gentle stop in the corridor and reached up to smooth a palm to his cheek. There was so much patience in his eyes.

“Whatever you want, Mitya. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

Oh Goddess. When Claude look at him like _that_ , it made him weak. Why was he being given such careful care and consideration? Articulating his desires was difficult, especially in a moment like this. He wished he could be... bolder. 

“I... want to lay beside you,” he said, his stomach clenching. 

A strange expression made Claude’s lips curl into a smile. Dimitri wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“...Please don’t laugh at me. I already felt a little embarrassed asking.”

“I’m not laughing! I’d be happy to, your Kingliness.”

“Thank you,” was the best Dimitri could answer with, still reeling from the mere _thought_ of Claude rejecting him. He cleared his throat, trying to press on. “May I undress you?”

“I’d be a bit upset if you didn’t.” The Almyran King encouraged, taking the lead to the bedroom.

Standing in front of the fireplace, Dimitri took his time, tenderly seeking Claude out for kisses in between removing each piece of jewelry, each garment. He’d been steeped in Byleth’s love for so long, it’s the only way he knows how to be with another person. Sincere, attentive. Claude lapped it up; every time Dimitri caught his gaze, he noticed a self-satisfied look in the Almyran King’s eye. 

After stripping him to naught but his smallclothes, Dimitri shyly took in Claude’s body. The three of them had indulged together at Garreg Mach in a splendid, passionate fray of teeth and tongue on torsos, but this was different.

Alone together, Claude was _his_ again, and he would take his time in cherishing him. 

The years apart had treated them so differently. The lithe body Dimitri had known was now filled out broadly with muscle. Strong arms and shoulders, honed by wielding axe and bow, hips and thighs strengthened by riding wyverns. The suggestions of body hair in their youth had grown in full and thick, particularly on Claude’s chest and arms, and the trail up from his smallclothes… he never thought he’d find such things so _lovely_. He splayed the fingers of his right hand over Claude’s heart. It beat so strongly. He was here, he was real.

“I’m so happy you came back,” Dimitri said earnestly. 

“ _Careful_ , you’re gonna make me fall in love again,” Claude teased while under Dimitri’s captivated gaze. Dimitri stilled his hand, unsure how to respond. Claude had every right to inflict stinging comments, but instead chose to be _warm_. Why?

His mind wandered. Desperately, he wished he had said something different to Claude on that day in the Officers Academy so long ago. He wished he had accepted the support his boyfriend had been trying, in earnest, to give him. 

That week the haunting voices had been too loud to ignore--he had told no one of them, and he wasn’t going to start with Claude. Saying something hurtful had been the easiest way to get Claude to leave before he lost total control. Even now he remembered the depth of the hurt in his eyes--

“Mitya. Hey.”

Dimitri hadn’t been aware he’d tuned out until Claude’s gentle tone brought his focus back. 

“I’m not trying to push you into anything, don’t feel--”

Dimitri felt an urgent need to kiss him, and let himself indulge just a little. Claude hummed.

“I’m falling back in love with you, too,” Dimitri murmured as they parted. It was scary to lay his emotions bare.

Claude shivered--from the cold or the kiss or the sweet sentiment, Dimitri was unsure--and he was quick to offer a robe. 

“Ah, smells like Byleth,” Claude sighed, happily tucking his face against the collar. It made Dimitri a little jealous to think of them together, but there was no need to be--Claude and Byleth weren’t going to exclude him. Right? The three had entered this relationship on equal terms, but--

“ _Now_. You’re entirely too clothed,” the shorter man appraised as he tied the robe shut and sized Dimitri up, easily interrupting his spiral of negative thoughts. “Lose the cape, I’ll take care of the rest,” he said with a dismissive wave.

Dimitri didn’t have enough confidence to take off his eyepatch for Claude yet, and was grateful when he made no mention of it. As each garment was discarded, his lover left light scratches on each tract of skin he revealed. It was _electric_. 

But the ecstasy faded quickly. Dimitri felt like a long-limbed, gangly mess in front of Claude, his skin covered in a crisscross of ugly scars and gouges earned during the war. Subsisting on scraps and spoils during the years Byleth went missing had done a toll on his late-teenage body; he would never be as muscular as Claude or Byleth.

An unusual look was on Claude’s face again and it was _not_ helping any of Dimitri’s insecurities. 

“Am I horrible to look upon?”

“No.” Claude answered sharply, swatting _most_ of those insecurities away. There was a distinctly smitten tone in his voice as he continued, “No, not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. I find you stunning.”

Dimitri’s blue eye quivered in its socket, his heart pounding. “Surely, you’re mistaken--”

“ _Mitya_. You’re the princeliest prince that ever princed. Your beauty, your poise, your presence-- it’s unrivaled. You’re a king from a storybook. I’m just a potato king next to you.”

His joke softened Dimitri’s self-hatred and he found a small bit of laughter. “You’re _not_ a potato.”

“Eh, questionable.” Claude allowed himself a smirk before he grew serious again, and pressed his palm over the ugly scar that covered Dimitri’s heart. “This is a good body. It is yours. And you’re _here_. Do you know how important that is?” he implored. “I’m not pretending to know what you’ve been through, but the war… it dragged all of us.”

Claude pressed in close to kiss Dimitri’s chin, then slid one arm around his waist, taking up Dimitri’s hand with the other. Their fingers folded together naturally. “And maaaybe this is silly, but you have beautiful hands,” he said, brushing his thumb over Dimitri’s as he led in the smallest sway of a slow dance.

He didn’t deserve so two big-hearted people in his life. But here he was, despite the years between them, after _everything--_

“I’ve _missed_ you,” his voice betrayed him, threatening to break.

“Missed you too,” Claude followed without skipping a beat. Dimitri looked back down to find that Claude had smushed his cheek against his chest and was just… looking up at him with bright eyed adoration. Dimitri felt tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes despite himself. 

“Let’s go to bed,” Claude suggested quietly.

Claude refused to take the robe off before slipping between the sheets, and whined at how cold it was under the piles of blankets. Dimitri smirked, searching for him under the covers with sweeps of his long arms. “I’m always kicking these off halfway through the night.”

“Really? I’ll soak some of that heat in,” Claude said before scrambling on top of Dimitri’s prone form. “This ok? Am I too heavy?”

Dimitri snuffed softly in amusement. He didn’t weigh much more than Byleth. “Not at all.” 

Dimitri hummed as the length of their bodies pressed together. Face to face, heartbeat to heartbeat, their legs entangling. It was utterly nourishing for Dimitri. Did Claude feel it too? 

He relished in the simple contact until Claude grew antsy some time later. “I want to hold you,” Claude said, scrambling under the sheets. He lost the robe somewhere while they rearranged and folded into each other again, this time snuggling against Dimitri’s back.

“This feels like a dream,” Dimitri admitted quietly, his eye unfocusing as he stared into space. He felt Claude’s chin hook over his shoulder. “I’m... not supposed to have you.”

Claude was quiet for a moment, idly playing with the sparse hair on Dimitri’s chest. “Well, you do,” his lover said finally, exhaling hotly in his ear. “And Byleth. You deserve it, Mitya.”

Dimitri wriggled onto his back to regard Claude, who propped himself up on an elbow. Claude’s idle hand smoothed down Dimitri’s side until it reached his hip, tugging him closer. His handsome face studied Dimitri so intently it was hard to keep eye contact.

Nervousness swelled in his chest when Claude pressed close and took a kiss. 

Took, because Dimitri hadn’t been prepared for the _yearning_ Claude shared with him. 

Dimitri stole kisses back with double the fervor, crushing Claude to his chest. A sweet moan falling from his partner’s lips stoked his confidence to take more. Indelicately he pressed Claude into the mattress, nipping at his jaw. 

“Ah, _Mitya_ ,” Claude’s beautiful eyes had grown dark with lust. 

He dipped to nip Claude’s neck and was rewarded with a surprised note. “...Is that okay?” 

“You can bite harder,” he encouraged, and his cry echoed in the cavernous bedroom when Dimitri delivered. Soft, wet kisses followed to soothe the tender spots he littered across Claude’s neck and chest. 

This rising tide of confidence would recede quickly, as it always did. For now he savored every taste and touch he was giving and receiving. When they parted, breathless and warm with their backs on the mattress, Dimitri felt his chest swell.

Goddess, how nice Claude was just to _look_ upon. 

His lover’s silhouette was fine--a strong, yet delicately sculpted nose, sweeping cheekbones, those gentle lips that were so quick to twist into a wry smile. Those delicate brows, painted above eyes that shimmered like the southern sea on a summer’s day. 

Claude’s chest heaved with the effort of catching his breath, and he sought Dimitri’s hand. 

He wondered as their fingers entwined: how real was this moment, these feelings? Could he allow himself to believe they might spend part of their lives together?

Perhaps. 

Perhaps after he and Byleth abdicated the throne and the church, respectively, they could lead a quiet life in the mountains somewhere in the former Alliance territories--somewhere with mild weather, closer to Almyra, to Claude.

His mind wandered further forward, entertaining the fancy of teaching their child how to ride horseback through an alpine meadow. How Byleth would teach them how to fish on a lazy midsummer afternoon, splashing around with their pants rolled up to their knees, while he and Claude chatted under the protection of a tree. How they’d set up targets together so Claude could teach them to pluck a bow, and later, how to wield an axe. He’d dangle talk of creating poisons and potions, too--Dimitri already dreaded the thought.

When Claude caught him mid-stare, they both laughed, riding the same playful high.

“The only thing that would make this better would be for the Goddess to give Byleth a blessing.”

Claude’s eyes narrowed for a split second as he ignored the mention of religion, reading the subtext of Dimitri’s statement.

“No one wants to be a broodmare.”

Dimitri’s brow crumpled. “Do you not desire to see Byleth heavy with child?” 

Claude laughed awkwardly. “Wow, you followed that up _too_ fast. Um. _No_ ?” He paused. “Oh. _Oh_. Is this a fetish you’ve cultivated?”

Dimitri blushed hotly, turning away.

“I didn’t mean to shame you, I’m just… surprised. _Though_ I guess I shouldn’t be,” Claude said, rolling over Dimitri so they were chest to chest. Like this, it was too difficult to look away from his handsome face, and he _knew_ Claude knew that. 

“What if you can’t have kids?”

“ _Please_ don’t say that.” Dimitri was mildly startled at the defensive tone he heard in his own voice.

“It’s not an insult, Mitya. It’s just a question,” Claude soothed, and continued, “she seems to be having a rough time.”

He had put so much stock in that aspect of his relationship with Byleth that it was unfathomable that the outcome would be anything _but_ a child. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if we couldn’t make a baby...”

For a moment Dimitri thought he recognized the hurt he’d once inflicted upon Claude in his eyes, but it vanished so quickly he couldn’t be sure.

“Oh. Right. _Love between kings won’t let a kingdom prosper,_ wasn’t that what you said to me?” Claude paraphrased bitterly, pulling away from Dimitri to sit beside him.

Ah. _There_ was the resentment Dimitri knew he deserved. The conversation had changed into a wildly different one so, so easily, one he was absolutely _not_ ready to have, but by the look in Claude’s eyes, he knew there was no way out. 

Given an opening, Claude continued passionately, “Which is _bullshit_ by the way--we could’ve adopted or found a surrogate.”

For each point Dimitri brought up, Claude had a counterpoint. How was he so practiced? Dimitri’s anxiety was spiraling out of control, and his voice was shaky but that didn’t deter Claude in the least.

“Your ambition--”

“--wouldn’t have taken me away permanently,” he gestured to himself, here with Dimitri in bed. _Fair point._

“The war would have torn us apart.”

“The war wove us back together at Gronder, at Deirdru.”

He had not been wrong. Claude had even offered an alliance at Gronder but… Dimitri had been too incensed by bloodlust to consider it, even with Byleth’s gentle urging to take the hand that had been extended.

“I could never leave Byleth,” he said, scared.

“I’d _never_ ask that,” Claude snapped back. He was heated, and rightly so. “Don’t test me, Mitya. I’ve had _years_ to think about us. I have forgiven you, but I’ll _never_ forget.”

 _Us._ Even amid the relentless waves of guilt and shame, the admission made Dimitri’s chest swell. 

“...Being the heir to the Crown is a heavy burden to bear.”

The last was said with utter defeat. 

Claude sighed in exasperation, but became more gentle. 

“Hey,” he murmured, offering a smile, “Didn’t we fight a war to dismantle things? The Holy Kingdom of Farghus doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Ah--” Dimitri fell silent.

He’d been so impassioned by an obligation that had been iterated and reiterated during his youth that they still felt like a burden he had to bear. 

The burden was only a hand upon his shoulder when he confessed to his crush on Felix to his father at the tender age of five, laughed off by the adults when the two of them made garlands for one another and held hands as they strolled around the courtyard.

The burden became the slump of a body over his shoulders after he shared his first kiss with Sylvain a few years later. It was a soft, quick thing that tickled his heart. They laughed and never spoke of it again, but Dimitri thought about it sometimes.

The burden that was the heaviest, an invisible force holding him down and choking him, manifested when he met the mysterious, charming Claude von Riegan their first day at Garreg Mach Monastery. 

Had that been why he was so focused on Edelgard? Duty? Duty had wound him up, certainly. But he _had_ cared for Edelgard, despite how everything had ended. Years of reflection and talking through it with Mercedes made him realize fate had been cruel to them both.

The truth was, Dimitri _wanted_ to be a father. 

But it was strange… even considering it for a split second, if Byleth had appeared male before him instead of female, he would have thrown away the crown if asked. They would have found a way to make a family, irregardless of gender.

 _That_ realization made him feel even _more_ guilty about Claude.

“You’re a King, Dimitri. You can have it _all_. Byleth is utterly in love with you. I’m not far off the mark myself.” 

“ _Claude_ ,” he choked on his lover’s name.

“Let’s worry about making each other happy now, in the moment. If Byleth has a child, I’ll be a proud uncle,” Claude said with wistful sincerity. “But _please_ , don’t let it get you down. We can make a family in a different way.”

“You want to make a family? With us?” Dimitri was on the verge of tears again; his heart felt so _full_. Claude’s ambition had kept him far away from Fódlan for so many years. Could this really be his new ambition?

“You’ve changed, Claude.”

“For the better, I hope,” he winked. 

Without a word, Dimitri pulled him down for a kiss. Soft sighs and moans escaped into the canopy above them as they idly indulged in each other. 

“I think you’re right,” Claude said suddenly, stroking pale strands from Dimitri’s face. He nosed in close to stare wistfully into Dimitri’s eye. 

“What? What is it, Claude?” He asked quietly, his heart pounding.

“This _is_ like a dream.”

Dimitri’s chest swelled and he impulsively cupped Claude’s head as he stole a kiss. Their bodies twined and pulled apart only to twine again. Claude grabbed his hips and pressed their concealed erections against each other. Lust clouded everything. He had loved Claude so dearly--he didn’t deserve to lap up his affection when he’d been so cruel. 

“I desperately want to make love to you,” Dimitri panted, pressing Claude into the mattress with the sheer weight of his larger frame. “I’m embarrassed to admit... I don’t know how.”

Claude seemed a little surprised at Dimitri’s admission. “Mitya… You’re telling me after a decade of marriage, you and Byleth have never tried--”

“O-of course! No, I meant…” Dimitri fell silent, averting his eye. 

“You _meant…_ ” Claude coaxed, brushing his cheek.

Dimitri leaned into the touch, glad his lover was ever-so-patient. “I’ve never touched another… ah… cock before.”

“I think we can figure it out,” he said softly without an ounce of judgement in his voice, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind Dimitri’s ear. “We can take it as slow as you’d like.”

Kneeling on the bed, they discarded their smallclothes. Dimitri was surprised to see Claude was also a little shy as they took in each others’ bodies, fully nude in front of one another for the first time.

Claude was transfixed at the sight of Dimitri. “...How do you fit that thing in your wife?”

“Carefully,” Dimitri answered seriously. Claude laughed. 

“I know I said it before, but I’ll say it again. You’re stunning,” Claude appraised as he moved closer, placing a hand on Dimitri’s hip. The praise was confusing. It was difficult for Dimitri to reconcile that Claude was attracted to him enough that they were doing... _this_. 

The heel of Claude’s palm pressed lightly against Dimitri’s abs, and his breathing quickened as his fingers smoothed lower, then lower still, combing through his pubic hair. He tugged lightly at the roots, teasing. 

“You okay?” he checked in, searching Dimitri’s face. Dimitri nodded.

Dimitri braced himself on Claude’s shoulders when he started to stroke him, relishing in the sensation. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off of Claude’s hands working over him, or Claude’s cock. 

“You can touch me,” his lover encouraged, reaching for Dimitri’s wrist. He couldn’t stop himself from trembling.

“... I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

Dimitri carefully squeezed between Claude’s thighs and was delighted when he moaned. He tested Claude, rolling his foreskin back from the glans and along his length, then back up.

Claude sighed happily, tipping his forehead to rest on Dimitri’s chest so he could watch. Seeing all of Claude… the _entire_ picture of him, he was far more handsome than Dimitri had ever imagined. No, that wasn’t right. Beautiful? Gorgeous?

“I look nice in your hand,” Claude said fondly. An intense blush had spread high on his cheekbones, and he nuzzled the scars on Dimitri’s chest. 

Claude praised him quietly when he quickened the pace. His hand found Dimitri again, expertly causing pleasure to coil low and tight in his body. Claude began to thrust lightly into his palm; Dimitri followed his example. 

Smirking devilishly up at Dimitri, Claude grasped their cocks together with one hand. The sensation was incredible. Claude was an attentive lover, oscillating between fast and slow strokes, easing the pace when Dimitri tensed.

Instead of being with Claude in the moment, enjoying their first time together alone, his mind went to Byleth.

“Stop,” Dimitri demanded suddenly, shaking his head. “ _Stop_.”

“Okay.”

Claude pulled away. They were both left throbbing and wanting, panting and averting their eyes from each other. Was he mad?

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Dimitri’s stomach clenched. Claude seemed dejected. Perhaps his own tone had been a little… sharp. Did Claude hate him now? Had he just ruined everything they’d built after careful trust had been constructed between them, after so many confessions had been laid bare? 

A gentle hand ran through his hair, directing his attention to Claude. “It’s _okay_ , Mitya. I’m _not_ mad at you,” he said carefully and deliberately, cupping Dimitri’s face in a loving gesture. “I told you, we’ll take it as slow as you’d like.”

Should he have just let his mind wander, and let Claude finish? He _wanted_ Claude, he wanted Byleth, yet he did not know how to reconcile those emotions. It seemed too... _easy_ to have the attention of them both. Did he deserve this?

“Hey. Are you still with me?” Claude’s voice interrupted him, a sad smile on his face. “...Is it okay if we cuddle? You can say ‘no’.”

“Yes.”

Claude was extra considerate as they readied for bed together, and opted to be the big spoon again. Dimitri was such a tall person, it felt nice to be _held_ and pretend to be small. It was something he asked Byleth for sometimes. Negative thoughts nipped at him until the moment sleep eclipsed his mind.

* * *

Dimitri awoke to find the bed empty and cold. Had he hallucinated the entirety of Claude’s visit, of their night together? His clothes, which had been scattered by the fireplace, were missing, yet the sheets smelled strongly of Claude, spicy and clean. He _had_ been here.

But where was...?

Tinkling laughter met his ears, distant though it was. _Byleth_. 

He threw the covers from the bed and shoved his arms into his robe, padding down the hallway hurriedly. He paused in the doorway, his heart thudding with joy.

_My loves._

Byleth _was_ here. She and Claude were sitting side by side in the parlor, sharing tea and a light breakfast. Claude had collected his clothing at some point and was decent. Byleth was in her preferred black slacks and a loose gray blouse, topped with a puffy riding jacket, her pale hair wind-mussed from traveling by wyvern. He adjusted his robe, feeling woefully underdressed.

Dimitri felt like an outsider, watching two people in a close, loving relationship. But as soon as they looked upon him, there was nothing but affection for _him_ on their faces and he felt overwhelmed. Byleth rose from the table to meet him first, jostling it before bowling into his arms. Claude made a surprised noise and steadied their jittery teacups.

“...My Beloved.” Dimitri laughed lightly, crushing her to his chest. “You’re _here_.”

“All part of our scheme,” she tugged at the collar of his robe for a kiss, utterly focused on him. He couldn’t believe that she was here, even as she nuzzled in close. “Good morning, my love.”

“Scheme?”

“Oh. We’ve been planning,” Claude’s voice rose to answer. Dimitri’s eye flicked to his face. He flashed the pair a winning smile. “Byleth’s idea.”

“Oh?” Dimitri did not miss how Claude watched them like a curious cat.

“That’s right,” she answered, turning back to Dimitri. “You’re _not_ working today.”

“But I--”

“ _No_ . You are _not_ working while we’re here,” Byleth said. “It’s out of the question.” Her tone made it clear that was an _order_ , and her smile suggested she had other things in mind. He was happy to comply.

She led him to the breakfast table, where they quickly rearranged so Dimitri was between them. 

“Mornin’,” Claude greeted, placing a kiss on Dimitri’s stubbly jaw before they took their seats.

Byleth pushed a cup of perfectly brewed chamomile into his hands. The small, round table had a full spread of his favorite breakfast foods. They were doting on him and although it should make him happy, it was a lot to deal with so suddenly. The grind of his solitude, the work of improving the country he and Byleth had fought so hard to reunify… having them here was slightly disorienting. 

“How did you sleep?” 

“Your presence was comforting, I slept well.” Dimitri managed. That much he could be honest about. Claude shone a smile so bright it took his breath away.

Byleth and Claude continued to share light pleasantries with him while encouraging him to eat. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was… as usual. The textural combination of crisp bacon, crunchy buttered toast and soft scrambled eggs was incredibly satisfying. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some reading to do,” Claude suddenly excused himself. Dimitri did not miss the wink he shot at Byleth. Lifting his his teacup by the rim, he departed for the small reading room on the other side of the royal apartments. 

As soon as he’d left the room, Byleth was on his lap, wiggly and excited. 

“Did you have a nice evening together?” Byleth asked, a sparkle in her eye. She swirled a fingertip on the sliver of bare chest that peeked out from his robe. “Whenever you want time with Claude, just… take it. I don’t mind.”

 _Just take it?_ He had been the one to suggest that Claude spend time with her... _privately..._ in Almyra, but…perhaps this was going too fast. Was he getting in over his head?

Dimitri hesitated long enough that Byleth frowned. Finally he admitted, “It _was_ nice but… if I am honest, I missed you. I love you.” His voice reflected the ache he felt inside.

“I love you too, Mitya,” she whispered. They kiss for a while and the heat rises in his body. She reached between them and stroked him for a while, whispering lewd things. 

“What if we both made love to you?” she proposed. He couldn’t stifle the moan. “What if we sucked your cock?”

The thought was intoxicating. His hand slipped into her blouse to reveal a breast and he dipped to suckle at her. She cried softly when he used his teeth on her nipple but did not let up as she stroked him--at least, not until his body tensed beneath her thighs--knowing his tells, she brought her tempo to a halt.

“Ah-ah, no no, not yet,” she smirked devilishly, leaving him wanting. She tucked him back into his robe and patted the bulge she’d caused. He inhaled sharply; the soft fabric felt scratchy against his overly-sensitive skin. Dimitri both loved and hated when she teased him so. “Let’s take a bath. Would you like Claude to join us?”

He answered with a nod. 

Byleth seemed satisfied. “I’ll fetch him while you draw it.”

Dimitri was utterly spoiled by their attention. Claude washed Dimitri’s hair in a loving gesture. They anointed one another with oils afterward. Byleth dried and combed his hair into the half-ponytail she was always so fond of. 

They spent the rest of the day in the comfort of the royal family’s quarters, undisturbed by Byleth’s request. The three wear comfortable lounge pants, loose wide-neck blouses and nothing more. Dimitri enjoys looking at flashes of Byleth’s soft, strong chest and Claude’s hard, fluffy one. He was overcome with the desire to watch them together, yet felt nervous of the thought of himself joining in when _before_ he’d been all for the sharing of affection. He was not sure why.

“Hey. Come here. I have something I want you to see,” Claude said quietly from where he was perched on the edge of the bed. His usual mischievous tone had evaporated.

“...Are you nervous?” Dimitri asked with concern. Byleth slipped her hand into his stealthily, a pretty little smile on her face. He dipped to kiss her forehead. She was buzzing with energy as they joined Claude on the bed, but said nothing. 

“Heh. You can tell? Maybe a little.”

He removed a small pouch from his pocket and suddenly Dimitri found himself as nervous as his companion. 

“Claude? What...?” He looked to Byleth then back to Claude; his heart thundered in his chest.

A small, silver pendant necklace in slithered into Claude’s palm. Byleth squeezed his hand and peered up at him eagerly, but his attention turned back to Claude, who clasped it around his neck. He smirked appreciatively at the necklace.

Claude reached for Byleth’s hand and for his; his grip was gentle but firm. Warm. Strong. He revealed a similar necklace from beneath his shirt; Byleth wore one as well. His heart began to drum but he wasn’t sure if it was a pleasant thrum or a distressed one.

“I want to see this world we’ve made while I’m with you, both. I wish it could be more official, but... that’s not how our world works right now.”

“Claude…” Overcome by the gentle earnestness of Claude’s confession, Dimitri turned red, feeling like he might cry. Claude was so committed to them.

Tears welled at the corners of his eyes. _Maybe we can change that someday,_ he wanted to say, but Claude was kissing him. It was a sweet tender thing, and seamlessly he was passed to Byleth for more attention. She kissed him with such longing, he thought his chest might burst. 

“Is it okay if we touch you?” she asked, making their intentions clear. 

“I want to taste you,” Claude breathed in his other ear while teasing his nipple, not subtle at all. Just the _thought_ made Dimitri moan.

He felt Byleth’s lips curl into a smile against his neck. “Is that a yes?”

Though he felt shy, Dimitri found it impossible to refuse. 

Byleth undid the ties on his pants and slipped her hand inside. She made a happy noise, and pulled the waistband down so they had full access. “Hard already, my love?”

Her bare breasts were pressed against his back, and she stroked him from behind. Claude watched for only a few moments before he joined, settling between Dimitri’s legs to watch Byleth work him over. Claude rested his cheek on his thigh, and Dimitri could feel his hot breath.

“It seems his Majesty is in need of relief,” Byleth said, palming the root of Dimitri’s cock, offering him up on display. She stilled her hand as Claude moved closer to lovingly inspect his prize.

Oh, this was a game. He liked it already.

“Only if everything is in order,” Claude tutted, encouraging Dimitri to spread his legs further. Byleth strummed at one of his nipples and his cock throbbed. The small noises that escaped him were embarrassing, and only served to make Byleth pinch harder.

His blue eye was transfixed on his lover’s face between his legs. Avoiding the head of his cock, Claude dragged the tip of his tongue down the length and hummed, pressing a wet kiss to the junction of the wide stem and balls. It took Dimitri by surprise when he tugged on his sac, pulling it so his testicles were pressed shiny and taught against the skin. He kissed there too, lashing the skin with his hot tongue. 

Dimitri’s cries filled the room. 

“His Majesty seems healthy and virile,” Claude appraised, speaking to Byleth as if Dimitri wasn’t there at all. 

“Do you wish to be serviced, your Majesty?” Claude peered up at Dimitri. He nosed at the thick vein at his base, and slowly pressed wet, loud kisses there. He freed his own cock and Dimitri was transfixed while he masturbated. 

“Your Majesty? We await your reply,” Byleth prompted, digging her nails into his nipple hard enough to make him cry and writhe. He felt so _swollen_. Any touch would please him.

“Yes,” was all he could reply with, letting his head fall forward. His breath shuddered as he studied Claude. His lover merely smiled,

“What is it you desire, your Majesty?” she prompted again, waggling Dimitri’s cock close enough to bap Claude’s cheek. Dimitri jerked again, rewarding them with a lewd sound. 

He was flustered at _just_ how much he liked this. 

“I want…”

“Yes?” Claude was expectant. 

It was completely humiliating to ask them to do this. “A-ah…”

Byleth’s warmth disappeared from his back as she slipped from the edge of the bed to settle on the plush carpet beside Claude. She slipped a hand between her thighs and grasped Claude’s cock, encouraging him to pump her fist while they awaited Dimitri’s answer. 

He wanted to feel the slick of their mouths, the pressure of their fingers pressing into his opening and tugging at him. The graze of their teeth and the heat of their breath. 

Oh, but it was so undignified. Undignified to ask this of them, undignified to receive it--

...That made him want it more. 

Byleth piped up. “Your orders?”

“...I want to watch you suck my cock,” Dimitri breathed meekly, breaking eye contact. “Both of you.”

He was burning with shame and lust.

They did not answer with words. They pressed in together, Byleth slotting onto Claude’s lap, to nuzzle at the stem of Dimitri’s cock, kissing him and one another. Had they discussed this? It didn’t matter. Byleth tugged his balls, giving him a gentle squeeze. Claude flicked the tip of his tongue against the taut skin, and Dimitri writhed in delight. They ignored the throbbing length between their faces, torturing his thighs and sac with bites and kisses and hot lashes of tongue. 

“You’re so purple, your Majesty,” Byleth appraised with a hum, but made no move to touch. Instead she rubbed her fingertip to his slit, rubbing the wetness he’d leaked in a lazy circle around his glans; Dimitri shuddered in pleasure. Byleth smiled, then pressed her finger to Claude’s lips.

“Lick,” she ordered. He sucked on her fingertips dutifully. Dimitri exhaled hotly at the sight, wondering how Claude’s mouth felt.

“Oh. Are you in need of relief?” Byleth asked earnestly, taking on an annoyed tone as Claude sucked at her neck, as if he were interrupting. She was doing a bad job of keeping the smirk from her face. 

...Byleth was certainly enjoying herself.

“Y-yes…” Dimitri whispered, his hands tangling in their hair to direct their attention to his face. 

“What was that, Your Majesty?" she prompted again, her lips fluttering against his glans. 

He impatiently jutted his hips forward, bumping their faces. “Suck it. Now.”

Byleth encouraged Claude to take the lead, watching fondly as her boyfriend and husband were intimate this way for the very first time. 

“Goddess,” Dimitri hissed, trying to control the jerk of his hips as Claude took him in. His mouth was hot, slick and soft, and his practiced tongue rolled against the bundle of nerves at the underside of his cockhead. He bobbed and suckled, humming at the taste of the precum he drew into his mouth, before drawing back to steal Byleth in a kiss.

She, too, hummed at the taste of Dimitri in Claude’s mouth. It was hypnotic to watch them indulge in his cock and each other. Their tongues swirled over his tip before Byleth took as much of Dimitri as she could between her lips, exhaling hotly through her nose. He felt himself hitting her throat and she relaxes, pressing forward little by little with each breath. Dimitri curls his fingers against her cheek, praising, coaxing her. 

Byleth moans softly; he can feel the hum against his cock but she continues, her body writhing as Claude strums the cleft between her thighs. Dimitri is enthralled as they take pleasure from each other, his fingers tangling in Claude’s hair. With a sudden, wet pop she tipped her head onto Dimitri’s thigh, her cry echoing throughout the room. 

Dimitri felt a pang of envy when he saw how easily Claude had drawn an orgasm from Byleth. _He_ coaxed that sound from her. He swallowed the jealous feeling into his gut, but not before allowing just a bit of it to fuel his demands.

“On the bed,” Dimitri growled, haughtily regarding the two of them. Before they could get up, he caught Byleth firmly by the chin. 

“I want to spread my seed inside of you,” he ordered, having found his confidence. 

“Yes, your Majesty,” Byleth replied softly, falling into the role she knew he liked when he was in his _mood_. They disentangled with soft kisses. 

Byleth swept to the center of their large bed, spreading her thighs for her husband. She received Claude in a flurry of kisses, tearing her attention away from their lover only when Dimitri grasped her ankles.

Dimitri hooked her muscular legs over his shoulders as he prepared to take her, revealing the pink of her, slick with need. Claude was watching them--new to this aspect of their dynamic--stroking himself as Byleth pressed him for more kisses. 

He curled two digits into Byleth’s cunt and smirked at the delightful whimper she made. Seeing her in moments like this--his strong mercenary wife, utterly compromised--he had to stop himself from pressing in _too_ quickly. 

Dimitri dipped to nuzzle at her chest, letting her set the pace as he fingered her. She threw her head back in a throaty cry as she climaxed for the second time that day, filling him with a powerful desire to give her _more_. 

He suckled at her breast, Claude at the other, then pressed a few inches of himself into her. He murmured her name, cradling her hips to the angle he knew she liked before he started to move. The familiar series of small moans started to drop from her lips, her body grew tight--already she was close to climax. 

“Claude… use my mouth,” she panted, desperately grasping for her lover’s cock. He caught her hand instead, regarding her tenderly.

Was Claude off put by this?

Claude stroked her cheek as he tended to himself. “Byleth--” 

“ _Please_ , a-ah--”

As Dimitri continued to glide into her, she turned into a wibbling mess, riding out the wave of an orgasm, and then another. Dimitri was pleased, increasing his pace. She begged her husband for more, her gaze sliding from Dimitri to Claude, and from his face to his cock.

“Why do you hesitate? Fill her,” Dimitri ordered, watching the scene play out in front of him. “She wants it. Fill your Queen.”

Claude cocked a brow.

“Claude, _c’mere_.” She encouraged Claude to straddle her face, pressing a kiss to his cock before guiding him down her throat. Used to Dimitri’s length, she’d taken it easily, thick though Claude was. Any protests he’d attempted to raise were gone as he pumped gently into her welcoming mouth, her hands gliding up his back, his kneading at her breasts.

Dimitri huffed. Watching Claude and Byleth together while he was also inside of her unlocked a primal satisfaction. The muffled cries she made as they both dipped in and out of her were delicious. He tipped forward to catch Claude in a kiss, fisting his hair. 

Dimitri could feel the connection between the three of them. He could _taste_ it. 

He loved them. 

“I’m close,” Claude said hotly once their lips parted, trying to gently disengage from Byleth. But Byleth’s fingers curled into his buttocks, and the denial of intent was enough for him to spill into her throat.

Dimitri watched as pleasure etched across his fine features, brows drawing together, eyes sliding shut in relief. At that moment, Dimitri knew he’d never seen a man more beautiful. 

Byleth orgasmed again; between the sensation of her body clenching hotly around him, and the visual stimulus of Claude riding his own high, Dimitri joined them, pressing deep as he spurted hotly inside of her.

He rocked his hips a few times more, his chest heaving with the effort. They disentangled for a second time, resting with their beloved Byleth between them. 

“Are you okay?” Claude addressed Byleth with a gentle touch, cradling her face to his thigh as he sat against the headboard. “We were going pretty rough on you.”

Dimitri settled on the other side of Byleth’s small form, caressing her sweat-dampened skin. 

“Haa. I feel _good_ ,” she assured Claude with a happy smile, lazily turning her face to kiss his palm. Dimitri kissed her behind the ear and sighed, cupping his hand over her belly. He loved this woman. In the end, sharing her, and himself, with Claude had been less fraught with anxiety than he’d anticipated. It had even been thrilling.

They would have to part again tomorrow, but that was tomorrow’s problem. Right now his heart felt so _full_.

“I love you,” Dimitri murmured. His tone and gaze made it clear he was addressing them both.

“I love you too,” Byleth answered in kind, turning back to take a kiss from Dimitri and then from Claude.

Claude grew red faced and looked away, moving lower on the bed so Byleth was a barrier between them. There were a half dozen plush pillows on the bed, but they seemed to be sharing the same one, large though it was. He tucked his face against it, sighing heavily.

“Don’t tease me like that, Mitya,” he said finally, peeling his face away just enough to speak. 

Running gentle fingers through Claude’s hair, Byleth shot her husband a _look_ over her shoulder. 

It was Dimitri’s turn to grow red-faced. “I would not tease you,” he implored, sincerity dripping from each syllable. 

Claude raised his head to speak more clearly but did not look at either of them. “I _know_ you wouldn’t… that’s why it hurts to hear those words from your lips again, over a decade later.”

The anguish in Claude’s voice was clear.

“Do you two need to be alone?” Byleth asked.

“ _No--_ ”

Both men had answered in unison. She laughed humorlessly. Dimitri realized it was unfair to put her in the middle.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she persisted, even with how tired she sounded. 

“I am sorry, my Beloved,” Dimitri apologized, letting his eyes slide shut as he tucked against her, exhaling against her scalp. “We can speak of this later--”

“No. I want to say _one_ thing.” 

A shaky, calloused hand pressed to his cheek. Dimitri’s eye flew open to find Claude staring at him. He was far more nervous than when he’d presented the necklaces the three of them were wearing.

Claude’s voice was so shaky, already defeated. Dimitri recognized the raw vulnerability from the time he’d broken this person once before, back when they were young fools in love. The waves of grief made Dimitri feel sick. Wearing a frown, he sat up to address Claude properly, hand in hand.

“Can you promise you won’t break my heart again? Or that you’ll try not to--”

“I promise you my heart, my Golden King,” Dimitri said, brushing his lips across Claude’s knuckles. “I promise you my hand, my heart, and all the years I have left in this world.”

It was a rare sight to see Claude rendered speechless, but here he was, staring in abject shock, red-faced, overwhelmed.

Dimitri’s heart thundered in his chest.

“ _Say_ something.”

Perhaps he’d said too much? Or maybe not enough? Had he said the wrong thing entirely?

Perhaps he had it all wrong--

“I-- Ah. _Mitya_. Yes,” Claude said ineloquently, smiling so brightly Dimitri thought his heart might break.

“Claude, you’re crying.”

“Am I?” Claude smiled through a hitching sigh as Dimitri pressed in close, smoothing the tears that had spilled onto his cheeks with his lips. He pressed his head to Dimitri’s shoulder. “I promise you the same, Mitya. I love you too.”

A mostly-silent spectator between them, Byleth squealed happily from where she lay on the bed below. She turned bright red when they looked down at her, obviously feeling like an intruder to their happiness. 

“You’re not exempt from this,” Claude smiled down at her, thumbing her lower lip before they devoured her with happy kisses.

They languidly wove themselves together in the afterglow, napping the afternoon away with Byleth between them.

Indeed, tomorrow could wait. 


	10. Sudden Change in the Elements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the solace of the monastery, Byleth yearns for the two lovers who hold her heart.

Moons came and went, and loneliness had returned to grind on Byleth’s bones.

A shower of letters flew back and forth between their assistants to schedule another roundtable, and many more were privately passed between the three in the effort to stay connected. The appearance of azure and goldenrod envelopes on her desk always made her stomach flutter, no matter if it was a daily occurance.

She fell into a comfortable cadence of responding to letters from both kings. The correspondence quickly overtook her free time and occupied most of her waking thoughts.

The replies to Dimitri’s letters could be as explicit as she’d like, and indeed, she indulged him in passionate fantasies, though her own writing was lackluster. Dimitri’s eloquent, lavacious replies were often a highlight of her evening--on more than one occasion she’d take a glass of wine and one of his letters to bed, letting her mind relax and hands wander. 

In the effort of being prudent, Byleth’s replies to Claude’s letters were kept to mundane topics, but she looked forward to them just as much. The Almyran king was just as charming on paper as he was in person, regaling her with stories and jokes, discussing whatever intriguing thought exercise popped into his head, or merely wishing her well. It was an enjoyable way to catch up with and deepen their relationship.

Of _course_ she wished that she could have them at her side, but when her loneliness hit the hardest, she was reminded she didn’t suffer the same fate alone.

That knowledge didn’t stop the tears from soaking her pillow most nights.

* * *

This morning, the bedroom felt too hot. 

She tossed and turned, trying to cool herself; it was only by the brightness of the sunlight that Byleth realized she’d slept in far past the usual hour. 

The covers were kicked away with a flourish, and she shot up in bed, thoughts full of the meetings she’d have to attend today, and those she may have already missed. The sudden nausea that rose in the back of her throat made her regret everything. 

There was no time for her usual early training session. No time for a shower, no time for any of her usual rituals. She managed to get herself to the washroom to drag a comb through her hair and hastily brush her teeth. Makeup was a luxury she could not afford this morning. A splash of warm water on her face would have to be enough. 

Patting her face dry, she finally _looked_ at herself and gasped at what the mirror reflected. The dark circles were deep. She may have slept many more hours than intended, but she hadn’t slept _well_.

She left her quarters with none of the fineries expected of an Archbishop. Though she needed to rush downstairs to meet her appointments, it seemed the world was working against her. Her body did not want to move as quickly as she wanted, and the aroma of the solution used to mop the floor was unusually pungent today. 

Instantly, the queasy feeling was back. 

She made it halfway down the stairwell before things became difficult. Byleth braced against the corner of the landing, willing the roar of the world to stop spinning and her stomach to stop clenching.

Who knew descending exactly one flight of stairs could be so nauseating? A dinner of Flayn’s cooking a few nights ago must be the culprit behind this sick feeling; the hangover was the surprising part--she’d only had two glasses of wine before passing out last night.

She stopped again halfway through the audience chamber to her office, steadying herself on one of the massive columns. The stone was smooth and cool under her palm, and for a moment she desperately wanted to hug it. 

But there was work to be done. Seteth and Flayn were waiting.

Byleth stepped into her office, but upon seeing Byleth’s overtired face Flayn made a most ghoulish sound. The pitch made Byleth wince. Today would just be one of those days, it seemed.

“O-oh, your Grace!” Flayn shrieked. “Are you all right?” 

“I had too much to drink last night,” Byleth explained quietly, hoping that Flayn would take the hint and lower her voice to match. 

Byleth settled into her seat behind the expansive desk with great effort. Neat stacks of paperwork awaited her appraisal and signature, as well as a docket of the day’s responsibilities, a third of which had been struck through. She was always grateful for Seteth, but especially today. 

“The meeting with the representatives from Enbarr went smoothly, there is no need to worry,” he updated the Archbishop while Flayn set about making tea. “Please remember we are here to ease the burden of your role,” Seteth assured gently, sliding a short stack of meeting notes across the desk for Byleth’s review. She scanned the document, appreciative for Flayn’s careful penmanship. 

“Thank you--” 

Before she could speak another word, Byleth retched. Before she had another moment to think, Flayn had swept her long mint hair over her shoulder as she gagged into the small wastebasket presented to her. The rolling in her gut was nothing but a threat, and she spat sourly on the crumpled papers inside. 

Seteth narrowed his eyes at the situation before him. “You should pay a visit to the infirmary, your Grace.”

“Mm, I’m fine--”

Another wave of nausea hit and it took all her effort to ensure she didn’t miss the wastebasket this time. When she finally lifted her head, Seteth was wearing a grim expression.

“...The infirmary _now_ , your Grace.”

* * *

The array of tests was dizzying, even though all Byleth had to do was lay still on the narrow, uncomfortable cot. The focused energy of Manuela’s spell made her lower abdomen tingle with warmth.

After the inconclusive results of other tests, the mage’s face lit up. 

“Congratulations, you’re pregnant!”

A cold sweat broke out over Byleth’s body like hives, and her face must’ve been miserable to match, because Manuela was quick to offer comfort. 

“I sense a heartbeat, small but strong.”

“No, that’s impossible,” Byleth answered too quickly, too flatly. 

Manuela narrowed her eyes and sighed, exasperated by Byleth’s denial. 

“When was the last time you and Dimitri, mmm, hit the hay?” Manuela asked.

“Two, no, almost three moons ago, when I visited Fhirdiad.” 

“And you’ve been nauseous for the last week?”

“Yes, every day. Surely, it’s food poisoning--”

“By the calendar, the nausea and your physical state, you are  _ certainly _ pregnant,” the healer reiterated patiently. Byleth’s mind could do nothing but spiral as she processed this new reality. She could feel tears welling in her eyes. It couldn’t be true.

“There, there, Byleth. You have a  _ very _ handsome,  _ very _ devoted,  _ very _ loving husband, and the  _ best _ healer in Fódlan.” Manuela couldn’t resist flattering herself, which made Byleth smile a little. “This must be overwhelming for you, but please know you have the support of all of us at the monastery.”

Byleth could only nod, and she sensed the awkward energy rising from Manuela as the silence dragged on.

“Please don’t tell anyone else. I need some space,” Byleth finally said.

“Yes, of course. Take all the time you need.”

Byleth was grateful to be left alone.

She grabbed one of the stiff, starched pillows at her back and shoved her face into it. First came a cry of grief for the countless children her body had rejected. So many hopes and dreams and names picked out, for nothing. Then came worry, a dark, ominous thing that consumed her from within.  _ What if I lose this one too?  _

Somewhere in the depths of despair, hope tickled at the back of her mind.

_ Dimitri is going to be so happy... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a brief update--and finally decided a short, concise chapter is better than none at all.
> 
> Comments _very_ much appreciated. My writing has fallen to the wayside during this pandemic and your support gives me the motivation to continue.


	11. Flipped Time and Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth’s hair was a fluffy, unmanageable mess in the humidity summer had brought with its arrival. She eyed the dagger Dimitri had given her long ago as a token of his love, laying innocuously on her dressing table. How easy it would be to take fistfuls of hair and slide the blade through, to let tufts of it cascade to the floor, as she had done many times during her merc years. 
> 
> She sighed, resigning herself to braiding and pinning the mess to keep it off her neck. "Being pregnant imbues you with a natural radiance--a stage presence, if you will," Manuela had said during a recent check-up to try and bolster Byleth’s mood.
> 
> Byleth did not believe that for a moment.

Finally! It seemed their schedules, like the moon and stars above, aligned. The King of Fodlan, the Archbishop and the King of Almyra would have five days to reconvene and assess the results of their initial efforts.

Byleth’s hair was a fluffy, unmanageable mess in the humidity summer had brought with its arrival. She eyed the dagger Dimitri had given her long ago as a token of his love, laying innocuously on her dressing table. How easy it would be to take fistfuls of hair and slide the blade through, to let tufts of it cascade to the floor, as she had done many times during her merc years. 

She sighed, resigning herself to braiding and pinning the mess to keep it off her neck. _Being pregnant imbues you with a natural radiance--a stage presence, if you will_ , Manuela had said during a recent check-up to try and bolster Byleth’s mood.

Byleth did not believe that for a moment.

The mirror was unflinchingly honest. Radiance? All Byleth saw was a sheen of sweat. Her belly had begun to protrude far past her hip bones, and while she managed to ignore the mental discomfort, there was no denying the truth of it. The constant threat of nausea and unending hunger would not allow her to easily forget, either.

Byleth sighed, retrieving a sleeveless black dress Flayn had helped her commission from its hanger, then shrugged it over her head and shoulders.

For the first time during this unreasonably hot Garreg Mach summer, she was grateful for the billowing, shapeless long dresses that were suddenly in vogue, thanks to the trade routes that had been opened with Almyra.

She fingered the delicate golden trim along the round collar before clasping the simple button at the nape, smoothing her hands down the nubbly linen. Her already large breasts had swelled with the blessing of life within her, allowing the drape of the fabric to conceal her growing belly neatly. The Almyran merchant had suggested a glittering belt to cinch the waist and show off her figure, but that was the last thing Byleth wanted right now.

Still, she turned on her heel to check her profile, tucking the dress low beneath her stomach. 

“I’m huge,” she whispered to no-one. 

The truth was uncomfortable; she caught herself grimacing in the mirror and felt a blanket of shame drape itself over her shoulders. 

Byleth calmed herself by recentering Claude’s filigree pendant over the notch between her collarbones, then thumbed the emerald in the ring Dimitri had given her so many years ago, allowing herself the smallest of smiles--this afternoon Dimitri would arrive, and tonight, Claude, and for a short while she could pretend they’d never have to part. Perhaps she would feel better about this child with their excitement.

Ah, but if she dawdled any longer she’d be late for tea.

Indeed, Flayn was waiting for her at the gazebo anxiously, standing so fast she almost knocked over her chair.

“Your Grace!” 

Byleth was grateful for the invitation. She needed a little time to think about something _other_ than the baby growing shockingly, alarmingly well inside of her, or the skin hunger that gnawed at her. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Byleth apologized as she slipped into the vacant chair. 

“Are you feeling any better? I brewed a pot of ginger tea,” Flayn said brightly as Byleth took her seat. Even the aroma was soothing.

“It’s not as severe today.” Byleth smiled at the thoughtful gesture.“Thank you, Flayn.”

“I’m sorry to bring this up, but can we discuss the service this afternoon?” 

“Ah, of course. Thank you for being such a thoughtful study,” the Archbishop said sincerely. 

And so they briefly discussed monastery business. It was a rather dry conversation, but Flayn shone brightly with excitement at taking on more responsibilities in Byleth’s stead. After weeks of studying under Byleth’s tutelage, her first trial would be to lead this afternoon’s prayer service on her own.

“Enough of that. Are you excited to see Dimitri?” Flayn bubbled with a romantic glint in her eyes. “When he finds out he will certainly fall in love with you all over again~” she swooned, cupping her round cheeks as she dreamed of their romantic reunion.

The sudden change in topic made Byleth blush self-consciously.

“Of course,” Byleth said quietly. “He’s wanted this for a long time.”

“He’s going to be a wonderful father, Byleth! And you’ll be a wonderful mother.”

The comment made her take pause _._ She’d never desired a child or this feeling inside of her. It simply hadn’t crossed her mind. If asked, Jeralt’s warm, if not practical, parenting was the shining example she’d brag about time and time again. Traditional ideas of a mother were so ingrained in society that she was reciting them to her congregation daily.Of course Byleth had only known Sothis as a petulant brat, not the nurturing mother of Rhea’s book of scriptures.

Before she could consider that line of thinking any further, the scream of a particular wyvern made her ears perk up. _No, it can’t be...!_

Byleth’s heart jumped into her throat at the muddled emotions that sound wrought.

_Gods damn you, von Riegan._

The wyvern called out again, and its shadow dappled over the gardens. The white beast made a show of circling above them and Flayn seemed utterly charmed as the wyvern clung high up on one of the columns of the gazebo. It bobbed its head excitedly at Byleth. 

Sitting tall on its back, her debonair lover was dressed in a champagne silk riding outfit, the sleeves and pants quilted for warmth. The sash across his chest was a deep mossy green with the Alymran crest embroidered in bright yellow. Claude flashed a most handsome and triumphant grin but even _that_ did not sate her irritation, for he was here _much_ earlier than agreed upon, and she was _not--_

“His Majesty!” Flayn greeted with a polite wave.

“Miss Flayn. _Your Grace_.”

Claude’s knavish jade eyes honed in on Byleth and the attention warmed her unpleasantly.

_Why are you here?_ She wanted to demand, her heart torn with the desire of melting into his arms and ignoring him entirely, though she could do neither while in the middle of the monastery. 

“Don’t _you_ look the part of a Goddess,” he appraised from atop his wyvern, flattering but careful not to overstep boundaries in public. “You’re glowing, Byleth.” 

Byleth could feel her cheeks turning hot. Goddess, could he _tell_? No. There was no way. But even if his comment had been affectionate fluff, it was only a matter of time before she’d have to come clean about her pregnancy from Claude. 

Dimitri needed to be the first to know, and she hadn’t wanted to give him the life-changing news in a letter. She wanted to see the light in his eyes and the joy on _his_ face. She didn’t want to experience that with Claude, not yet. Her fingers twisted at the lacy fringe on the linen napkin in her lap. 

Byleth forced herself to slip into her role as Archbishop before she became more upset. “You must be ravenous after your journey. Please, join us.”

“I’d love to. Be right back,” he said with a wink before he directed his wyvern to the stables. A pair of distinctive brown wyverns she recognized as belonging to Nader and Balthus--zipped after them.

Usually she was able to ignore it, but today the gossipy chatter of those around them made her feel like she was drowning.

Not long after, Claude found them. A tower of sandwiches and treats as well as his very own pot of perfectly brewed Almyran pine needle tea had been furnished during his absence, neatly between the Archbishop and her protege. 

Flayn brightened at his reappearance, eager to fill his teacup. “How was the journey, your Majesty?” 

“ _Flayn_. Please, we’ve known each other for far too long for you to pull titles on me. Call me Claude,” he said with a smirk that grew into a smile when the young woman blushed. “The journey? Well…”

Claude regaled them with the tale of a trip _so_ fantastic it made Byleth’s ears burn--true or not, Flayn was hanging on his every word. Sometimes it scared her just how convincing Claude sounded when he wove stories from thin air.

The King of Almyra wrapped up his grandiose tale just as the bell tower tolled. Flayn almost knocked her chair over from the speed in which she stood, for the second time today.

“Oh my stars, I am late!” Flayn said apologetically. She offered a bow to each of her companions. “Thank you for that fantastic tale, your Majesty. Archbishop.”

As suddenly as Claude had arrived, Flayn departed, holding her curls in place as she jogged toward the cathedral. 

“Funny lass. Looks the same as ever. ...Prayer service?”

“Mmhm. Trying something new. She’s been eager to prove herself, and I am glad for the help,” Byleth explained, easily neglecting to mention the true reason for Flayn’s assistance. She sipped the last of her tea, long since gone cold. Despite Flayn’s good intentions,

it hadn’t eased the sensation in her stomach as much as either of them had hoped.

Byleth sighed, wanting to ask, _why are you here?_ But there were too many ears nearby. 

Alone, rather, alone as they could be in public, Claude let his guard down. Byleth had forgotten the hawk-like intensity that shone in his eyes when he wanted something. It was the same zest he’d once held when he spoke about holding the Sword of the Creator, or for seizing a victory at Gronder Field… right now the something he wanted was _her_. 

“We should go over the notes I have for our roundtable. Dimitri should be here soon. Have you had enough to eat?”

The slight disappointment flickering in his eyes at work being thrust between them was not missed on Byleth. He'd left his plates clean, the napkin wadded up and forgotten.

“Garreg Mach never skimped on the portions, even for tea. The bigger question is, have _you,_ your Grace?”

Byleth’s mouth tugged into a small frown. Of course he’d paid attention to her eating habits. He never stopped observing and analyzing everything. As they stood, he grabbed one of the spurned tea sandwiches from Byleth’s plate and demolished it in two neat bites.

As they strolled through the gardens side by side, enjoying the fragrant summertime blooms, Byleth found the strength needed to set aside her simmering aggravation. 

Perhaps they hovered too close for polite company; her small, bare hand brushed against his gloved one countless times as they meandered. She ached to fold her fingers between his but settled on tucking her hand in the bend of his elbow. Claude filled the void with idle chit-chat. Hungry for company but still a bit queasy, she hung onto his every word, glad for his amiable nature.

He’d led them to the arcade of the former Officers Academy. Or had _she_? Just like Dimitri, Claude’s presence stirred up comforting, nostalgic feelings, so it was easy to return to the place where they’d made so many memories together. 

“Welcome home,” she said softly as they crossed the yard, a secret just for the two of them. She gazed at him from the corner of her eye only to discover he was doing the same. He was better at this game than she. 

The gentle smile he returned was suddenly washed away. Bile was rising to her throat and she had to close her eyes.

“You feeling okay? You look pale.”

He hurriedly ungloved a hand to press to her forehead. The doors of the former Blue Lion classroom burst open and a mass of delegates poured onto the lawn, finished with their afternoon session. Byleth blushed hotly at the arrival of the unwanted audience.

“Ah… I…”

Byleth clawed at the soft padded fabric of his jacket sleeve, trying to steady herself. If she _willed_ the churning sensation away, perhaps it wouldn’t manifest. “I feel--”

“Byleth--” 

She peeled away from Claude to vomit in a bush. 

The undignified sound captured the attention of everyone in the yard. She could feel their eyes boring into her back, and the snippets of hushed, concerned whispers.

“Your Majesty, is everything all right?” one person addressed Claude. 

“Does the Archbishop need a healer?” someone else asked, panicked. The mere suggestion drove the crowd into a frenzy of hushed whispers.

She was thankful when Claude spoke up to deal with the crowd on her behalf.

Unable to focus on what he was saying, Byleth could only stare at her hands, pressed into the damp earth. During a pause, his undone cravat appeared in front of her. Byleth was grateful for the consideration.

“I’m taking you to the infirmary,” he said discreetly as the crowd began to disperse.

“There is no need,” she replied most firmly as she rose to her feet. She steadied herself on a nearby bench before heading for the stairwell tucked just outside the reception hall. “Just take me to my room.”

Quickly he caught up to Byleth, catching her arm as she stormed to the stairs.

“Byleth, you’re _ill_.” concern was etched into his handsome face and Claude started talking a mile a minute, as he often did when he was excited or overwhelmed. Right now, definitely overwhelmed. “I don’t have access to any of my potions or I’d make something to soothe you--”

“ _No_.”

His kindness was absolutely _infuriating_ right now. They’d only cleared one set of stairs when she whirled around to confront him.

“...No?”

“ _Claude,”_ Byleth gritted his name, unwilling to divulge her secrets. Was he being genuinely sweet or was he merely sniffing around, trying to get her to say what she did _not_ want to say?

“ _Why_ are you here?” she demanded, deflecting his concern. The stone stairwell amplified her tone, and in that moment she saw a raw and vulnerable expression 

“... Eh?”

The aggression in her voice had been totally unmoderated. Her companion’s lips parted then closed as he analyzed her expression. The tips of his ears suffered the most as he struggled to find words.

“I don’t know why you’re angry, Byleth. It isn’t fair for you to treat me like a punching bag.”

The seconds between them stretched like warm caramel before he leaned in to say, “I’m here because you asked me to arrive this afternoon.” 

That wasn’t right. _Surely_. She’d asked _Dimitri_ to arrive this afternoon. 

...Hadn’t she?

_Just because we’re in a relationship doesn’t mean you can show up whenever you’d like,_ Byleth wanted to say, but swallowed the spiteful comment in favor of a fragile truce. 

“Look, Manuela’s office is on the way. It certainly can’t hurt--”

“Tch. Again with that?” Petulantly, Byleth stomped past the second floor doorway, the sound of the small heels on her shoes drowned out by the clomp of Claude’s boots as he followed closely after.

“ _I’m_ going to rest. I don’t know what you intend to do with Balthus and Nader, but perhaps you should spend the afternoon with them, drinking or someth--”

The hem of her dress caught under one of those small heels. Byleth shrieked in terror as she tipped backwards from the top step.

The granite wall was unforgiving, readily shearing away layers of skin and breaking nails as she tried to find a handhold. A sick, familiar feeling of despair immobilized her.

Her companion’s reflexes sprung into action; strong arms caught her tightly around the middle, buffering her from the full impact as they dropped backwards to the landing below.

For a moment, they laid in an awkward jumble of limbs. Byleth’s pulse thundered in her ears as she tried to make sense of what happened. Blood oozed from the outside of one arm but she was too shocked for it to hurt. 

Claude groaned. Nuzzling into her neck, he murmured, “You okay? Don’t move-- _oh_.”

She scuttled as far away as she could on the small landing, blood smearing on her dress, the floor.

The generous drape of the summer gown had been favorable for hiding when she was standing or sitting, but now it utterly betrayed her.

“I-- Ah-- A-are you okay?” she asked before the last scrap of control escaped her, and her face crumpled.

“Just a bit shaken,” Claude trembled as he tried to sit up. By his wince, she knew it was a lie.

Claude howled to the Knights of Seiros for help. The clanking of knight’s armor from above and below was deafening. In no time at all they were both whisked to Maneula’s office in a flurry of glinting metal, but Byleth's pride was left behind, just as her blood was smeared on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter if you'd like to chat! I make sweet & spicy FE3H art and post dumb FE thoughts, 18+ only please! [@btwnskyandsea](https://twitter.com/btwnskyandsea)


End file.
